Untamed
by Envy My Pain
Summary: Betrayal. Envy. Passion. Hatred and envious temptations. These are the key ingredients to the perfections of a climatic story that will surrender you in its unraveling tale of the true devastations of love and hate.
1. Prologue

-1Author's note: This is a Vegeta and Bulma Fanfic---my second attempt. Please Read and Review.

I don't own Dragonball Z."

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The Untamed Soldier

Prologue

By: Envy My Pain

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Again, the young prince found himself void of another endless night of sleep. He shifted uncomfortably upon his stiff cot, a militarized issued item. His cheek was pressed into it, listening to the snores of the soldiers about him---and the drunken laughter and conversation coming from the upper decks above him. 

He had only been in the Kold Empire household for two weeks now, but it was not long enough for him to forget home and to cease yearning for the beauty of his home Planet, Vegeta. He missed the fruitfulness and warmth of freedom. He yearned for his escape from his enslaved state of bondage.

The six-year-old Prince shivered then, for it was dead of winter upon this planet all year round. It was always cold. He had yet to adapt to the climates freezing temperatures. He tried to snuggle more deeply into the stiff cot and the thin wool blanket he had been given. It was maddening how it licked at his skin with irritation. Itching, and irritating all in one. He didn't want to think about home, for then he would think about his parents and his people. How sorely he had missed them. If only he could forget his mother as he had last seen her. Lady Veidre who had been very strong by his fathers side, both King and Queen watched there only son embark on his long journey to a distantly cold world. Away from there rule, and away from there lives. He was taken by King Kold's men on the docking bay, her smile had been daringly brave yet forced, and he could see the tears that streaked her face as she wept without making a sound. It was a show of outer weakness, but one would never correct the Queen of Vegeta. Most curtain one being forced to watch there Prince being handed over to a cold merciless creature.

The young Prince gulped. Then, as now, the haunting image threatened to unman him. "Men do not cry, only cowards cry," He recalled his father words that he had told him gravely yet sternly when he had taken him aside earlier on the day that he left to the Kold Empire. "It is a great honor, and I know you will do your duty as a Prince always does, and that you shall make me proud."

"I promise, my lord," Prince Vegeta said, his heart swelled with determination. His father only grunted his approval to his son. He could see that his words did not reach his fathers eyes though, his vivid onyx hues, which were inexplicably worried. Or was it regret that he red upon his fathers gaze. Tell this day he'd never know---what his father felt the moment he had been forced to hand over his only son, into the arms of wicked elite force of killers.

Prince Vegeta had not counted on the loneliness. He had not understood what separation from him and family truly meant, until now. He had never dreamed he would yearn so terribly, so secretly, for home. He felt as if he was weak, an emotion he was now being trained to forget. An emotion that even his father had instructed him was a pathetic act, and would not be tolerated. An emotion he wasn't suppose to have, it was something that was being beaten from his body and mind.

Still, he had yet to give into the unmindful tears, and he would not. One day he would return to claim his patrimony, a man full grown, a elite soldier with great power, and his father and his mother would be proud of him---he'd become the prophecy laid out before his birth---preordained when he had only been conceived a couple of months still in his mothers womb. He'd become the Legendary Super Saiyan.

"Wake up, brat." Prince Vegeta stiffened. Turtlas leaned over him, another boy fostering with the King, and a few years older then he himself, and in far graver circumstances. For Turtlas was not just fostering with King Kold, but he was a hostage as well. He was the son of Earths King from his fist marriage. In theory Earth's King Son-Bardock would cease his vigilant warfare against the Kold Empire now that King Kold had his son Turtlas well in hand.

Vegeta felt not guilt for Turtlas, the boy had been so nasty that he could not like him. And Turtlas, for some reason, seemed to hate him. Warily Vegeta sat up, brushing the haze of sleep from his cheek and disheveled spiked hair. "Lord Frezia wants you," Turtles said. "Have you been crying?" He sneered.

Vegeta stiffened. "I'm too old to cry!" He said stiffly, standing. After all he was six-years-old, in saiyan standards he was a man he was a soldier, and he'd be the best. "What does Lord Freiza want?" Vegeta had snapped with irritation.

"Like I'd know?" Turtles sneered just the same, but he was smirking, his tone belying his words. Uneasy pricked at Vegeta, although there was no reason for it. He did not mind being summoned to the Prince of the Kold Empire. After all Lord Freiza had befriended him shortly after his arrival, and was his only friend amongst all the boys in the King's household. Being the youngest and the newest boy, Vegeta was either ignored by the other boys, or bullied and teased. Vegeta had quickly learned when to fight back and when to retreat although in his stubborn state of mind retreat was only a last resort, if every other option had been closed. Now, of course, he was perplexed. He had never been summoned by Lord Frieza before, and especially not in the dead of night. Vegeta increased his strides to match Turtles' as they slipped from he hall and outside.

Vegeta wondered where they were going but asked no questions. Before leaving home, he had been warned by his father to watch closely, listen well, and reveal little of what he thought or felt. He had been advised to trust no one but himself. So far, these past few weeks had underscored the value of his father's advice. He understood now much of what his father had instructed him upon.

Upon the threshold of the dayroom of a ship (A hang out location with the for Entertainment .) Vegeta froze. Freiza was not alone; he was surrounded by a group of his elite soldiers, other young men close to his own age of what Vegeta suspected was sixteen at the time. They were all deeply in their cups. One of the boys was singing a stupid out-of-key song. A serving wench was amongst them, and two of the soldiers each had an arm around her. Her tunic was torn and gaping open, reveling taut nipples and lush breasts. For an instant Vegeta stared, then he flushed beet red and looked away as one of the boys fondled her.

Lord Frieza was staring at the six-year-old boy. For some unfathomable reason, Vegeta's initial unease soared. Frieza was flushed from his drink and his eyes glittered wildly. He crooked a finger, calling softly. "Come here, Prince Vegeta."

Vegeta did not move. Not only were Frieza's eyes glittering and overly bright, he had his arm around a younger boy in a very intimate manner. Vegeta did not recognize the younger boy, who wore the shabby clothes of a servant and/or slave. Clearly he was not the son of a great lord sent to foster with King Kold. Vegeta felt a flash of piercing fear for the boy, as their gaze met.

His father had warned him that there were men at court who like young boys, and that he must be careful to remain aloof. Vegeta had vaguely understood. He had seen lust in most of its forms even if he had not comprehended it. Now there was sudden, startling, frightening comprehension.

But surely he must be mistaken! This was Lord Freiza. The King's son. Vegeta watched in horror as Lord Freiza approached having forgotten the young boy that had been to his side. Vegeta's tail began to twitch around his waist, as he could feel his bones turn cold like steel.

"Good evening, my little prince." He said, smiling. When he smiled he was quite good-looking, despite his unruly flaming features of his alien race. He threw his tail around vegeta's slender waist and pressed him close. "share my wine. It's uncommonly good, from a planet purged years ago. It's priceless in it's quality.

Lord Freiza was his friend, Vegeta told himself as his heart began to race and pound. He had been kind to him since he had arrived at the Kold Empires court, he had helped aid Vegeta on purges---some of the more difficult ones. The only boy to be kind. But Vegeta did not like the hungry way that Lord Frieza was gazing at him, nor did he like the look of expectation and amusement on the face of all the other soldiers sitting amongst the table. He did not like the look of relief on the young servants face. Not only did Vegeta feel as if he was the butt of a vast joke, he felt as if it was a cruel one---a dangerous one. He felt trapped. He pulled away from Lord Freiza's tailed embrace.

"No, thank you, lord Frieza." It came out like a choke, he felt his breath catch in his lugs---it was an uneasy topic of discussion, and the proximity of both Lord Frieza and himself was discomforting. He felt claustrophobic all of the sudden, he felt very indifferent.

Freiza rubbed his back. "Why so formal this evening, Prince Vegeta? Come, sit with me, tell me why you appear so indifferent towards me all of a sudden." Vegeta did not want to understand what was happening, But he did. He comprehended that Lord Friezas's intentions were not simple friendship---or guidance in achieving the tile of an Elite Soldier. He comprehended Lord Frieza's unnatural lust.

As he stood, torn, not wanting to believe the worst, not wanting to give up his single friend or was it a foe tainted in the image of a friend? Did he force his mind to comfort to the thought of being special, yet knowing he was in danger, knowing he must move, and flee, an unfamiliar young voice rang out.

"Leave him alone, Lord Frieza. Let him be!" Vegeta's head snapped in the direction, at first he was confused, he looked so much like Turtles.

Vegeta started at the youth he had never seen before shouldered forcefully through the boys. In size he did not appear older then Vegeta himself, but there was shrewdness and authority in his tone. Although his features were far from more even, his hair was saiyan---spiked in onyx coloration, his resemblance to Turtles was unmistakable. This then was the King Malcolm's youngest son, Kakarot.

"Who asked you to interfere, monkey?" Freiza said coldly. Kakarot's smile was just as cold. "Are you stupid? Would you abuse the boy who would one day be the King of Vegeta? Who would one day be your greatest ally?"

Vegeta began to shake as final full comprehension sank in. His heart was pounding now in fright and anger. Lord Frezia's interest in him tonight had nothing to do with friendship---had never had anything to do with friendship or leadership guidance. The betrayal---and disappointment---was vast.

"You'll be sorry for this," Freiza cried.

Freiza suddenly lunged at his allied foe, perhaps to throttle him, his face was red with rage. Kakarot ducked, and as one, Vegeta and Kakarot began to run. They raced out of the docking bay and into the long halls.

"This way!" Kakarot shouted, and Vegeta followed the younger boy back towards the donjon. A moment later they were safely in the main room where the rest of the lower leveled soldiers lay sleeping.

They both fell onto Vegeta's cot, panting and out of breath. To Vegeta's horror, he felt tears well. The same tears he had been fighting ever since he had ridden into the King's household. He had the horrible thought that he wanted to go home.

But he would die before letting Kakarot see, so he turned his face away and regained control. When Vegeta could speak, he said, "Humph, thanks I guess."

"Forget it," Kakarot said easily, the cot rustling with a creek as he sat up. "Didn't anyone tell you to be careful of Lord Freiza, who is far fonder of boys than girls Prince Vegeta?"

"No." Vegeta stared at his hands. "He was considerate enough. I thought he could be trusted, I thought if I were to prove my loyalties to him now that I'd be able to prove myself to be something more, perhaps a Soldier---an Elite."

It hurt. He had no friends after all. Not here at court. He was far from home and alone. Then he glanced sideways at Kakarot, who had come to his aid without being summoned.

"Tell me Kakarot, why did you aid me?"

"Because I do not like Lord Freiza, I am perhaps in the same odd predestinate as yourself. Because one day you will be King of Vegeta---and we will be allies, after all you are of my race, my culture. I Freely and patriotically serve the house of Vegeta, I am forced to serve the Lizard Lord and kingdom. Even though my family was sent to take care of Earth, and it's inhabitance---as well as it's growth in technology when I was only an infant. My brother and myself were kidnapped---and forced into servitude of the Kold Empire."

For the first time in his life, Vegeta had an inkling of the power that would on day be his. "And if I were not the Future King of Vegeta, heir to the thrown of kings, would you have done, what you have done?" Kakarot gave him a queer look, no longer smiling. His goofy features seemed to dissipate into a serious notion, Finally he said, "I would be a fool to prick at Lord Freiza if it did not serve me well."

Vegeta could not help being disappointed. Lord Frieza had not been his friend, and neither was Kakrot. Kakarot had come to his aid, not in an offer of friendship, but for reasons politic. Vegeta was annoyed then. He seemed to take on a frown, much that he seemed to ware about much these days. His scowl grew deeper into one of deep council.

"You are no older than me."

"I am seven. And I have been raised at court, both here and on Earth. I know of what I speak." Then he smiled a goofy smile, a triumphant smile, his goofy cricked smile, that seemed so different from a forced smile he'd seen from his planet, and his people. " An ally is far better than a friend." Vegeta's temper unflustered and he thought carefully about it. Kakarot was right. Tonight had proved that. "Then we are allies," he decided, his tone so firm that Kakarot slanted him a glance. "And I will stay away from your brother." His lips thinned. He began to feel rage. How dare Lord Freiza treat him as he had the servant boy, one day he would be King Vegeta, of planet Vegeta. And one day Lord Frieza would rule as the Kold Empires King a forced alligance between two grate worlds, to incretable Empires. Vegeta sobered. One day Lord Frieza would be his liege Lord. Although, already he'd plot the death and destruction of his allied foe.

"Usually Lord Freiza is better behaved," Kakarot commented, "But in your case, because you are only a hostage, he assumed no one would care if he did as he willed." It took Vegeta a full moment to comprehend what Kakarot had just said.

"I am not a hostage. My father sent me here to assure the agreement---that both Empires made. The peace treaty."

"Oh , come on! You mean, you do not know? No one told you? Your father did not tell you?"

There was only disbelief. "I'm not a hostage, as I have told you already. I am here only to assure the peace treaty between our Empires."

"You are a hostage, Prince Vegeta. Just as Turtles is a check upon our father's power, so, too, you are a check upon your own father's power."

"But---my father and King Kold---they are allies!"

Kakarot was grave. "Once they were allied acutance---far from foe. But both great kings, with great kingdoms. You see I have had an ear about the court---I hear much, and learn much. You see our race is powerful Prince Vegeta, we hold great power within us that it makes the Kold Empire fear what we could be, within a few years we could become or surpass even his elite armies. Maybe perhaps the Elite Ginyu Force. That is why, you are here. To assure that you father doesn't phantom any ideas of going against the treaty."

"How do you know all this Kakarot, for you are like myself a slave to that lizard. How then are you capable of gaining such Intel?"

"I know well of what I speak, I have heard King Kold and his eldest son Cooler rage about King Vegeta. He is afraid, for he has given him too much, and what he has not given, King Vegeta has taken. You are here to guarantee that King Vegeta continues to support the King against his enemies."

Suddenly Vegeta felt even more alone then he had earlier. "He d-didn't t-tell me," he whispered, closing his eyes. Kakarot said nothing. Vegeta could not move, could not breathe. His father had not told him the truth! He was no fostering youth but a hostage, and that was no great honor!

Vegeta opened his eyes and clenched his fists. Rage engulfed him. How he hated King Kold and his Son's, for they had forcing and subjected him from his home to coldness, for forcing his father to give him up! His father---whom he thought was dependable enough. Someone he consider strong, solid, like a rock! He never would think his father coward enough to subject to the Kold Empire his only Son, heir to the throne of Vegeta. His father, who had lied to him as well. Anguish ripped him apart. Now he understood his mother's tears. Now he understood all. It was twistingly cruel how fate laid down the cards, how it would shuffle through undependable.

"I am sorry, my Prince," Kakarot had stated, as if he truly meant it. Vegeta looked at him waily, then forced his anger down, at the same time smirk upon his lips. "It's better you know," Kakarot continued," Kakarot shrugged. "What will you do now, Prince Vegeta?"

"Nothing changes," Vegeta stated, his tone not that of a six-year-old boy, but of a man. "I do my duty." but in that moment everything had changed, forever. He would have to grow up. He could no longer play the child anymore. He was going to have to be the Soldier, and he'd prove himself the Elite, no mater how many hours, or days it would take. He would train---and he would endure hell so he could become the best. The hell with being enslaved as a prisoner---he'd make it through these years. Yes. He was determined to do so.

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Remarks-Reviews. (Thanks) 


	2. I Spy

-1Authors note: Growls Ri

ght now I am irritated beyond a doubt. I want to personal first off appologize if some chapters may come up slower then others, I'm getting ready to deploy to Iraq so I have less and less time right now to update, but don't worry there is internet in Iraq, and I will update when I am given the chance to. 

The Untamed Soldier

Chapter 1: I Spy

By: Envy My Pain

A lovers' tryst. Bulma could not help smiling to herself as she hurried away from the keep of the Capsule Corps. Compound which was connected to Earths Empire. She slid out into the lands of an exotic world of Earth, her home world. She was careful not to be seen. It would be her very first rendezvous and excitement filled her at the thought. She was in disguise. She had shed her fine outer tunic with its long, jewel-encrusted sleeves for a peasant's coarse woolen shift. Her golden girdle had been exchanged for a braided leather belt, her pointy silk shoes for wooden clogs. She had even been clever enough to borrow a par of rough wool socks from the dairymaid, and old linen veil covered her azure locks from venture eyes. Although her lover was her betrothed, a clandestine meeting was out of the question for any lady, much less herself, and she was determined not to get caught.

Bulma's smile broadened. She was immersed in visions of her handsome Prince sweeping her into his arms for her very first kiss. Her marriage had been arranged for political reasons, of course, so she knew very well how lucky she was to have fallen in love with Yamcha, a young exotic desert bandit who had been her friend since childhood.

The sound of voices slowed Bulma. For an instant she thought that Yamcha must have company, but then she realized that the voices were not speaking in Japanese, or anything from earth's languages that she could distinguish. With a grasp of fright she scrambled behind a willow tree. Crouching down in the grass and hiding under the long drooping sway of the branches. She glanced around it, for an instant she could not move, frozen with disbelief.

Saiyans Soldiers filled the small clearing in front of her. Abruptly Bulma hunched down even more, her heart slamming against her chest. All thoughts of her tryst with Yamcha fled. Had she taken just one more step out of the woods and into the sunny glade she would have walked right into their camp!

Bulma was afraid to move. For it had been many years sense the cruel Saiyans had left Earth, leaving behind Bardock the Great, who later had his three sons and an adopted daughter who he had obtained from her fallen family during Earths first purge (Even so she had hated much of the Saiyan race because of the purge, and the death of her friends and family). She'd only heard the stories of horror this race brought forth with the name of Frieza behind there cause, and it was enough to send her into a shiver of fear. She had been teased by her foster father many times that she was far to clever for a girl, and now her mind was already spinning out its own conclusions. Why were the Saiyan Soldiers here, on earth? Did they know of the wedding of the herself and Yamcha the Desert bandit Prince. It was important outpost for her father, Bardock, Holding all boards of Earth to his domain, as well as the moon and the outskirts of small planets around the solar system that directly effected earths protection from outer attacks---it was better to have the strength within the walls and have Yamcha's allied forces, then to have the marauding, treacherous Saiyan soldiers here. A fragile peace had reigned in the past two years since Bardock had sworn fealty to the Saiyan Prince, and King---and was force to subject his loyalties to the Kold Empire which her foster father despised above all things. Frieza the Lizard Lord, of the Kold Empire. Had the Saiyans been so clever, then, knowing that Earth would be so preoccupied with the wedding festivities that they could camp under its very nose and spy---or do worse? Outrage swept through Bulma. The allied enemies of the Kold Empire were up to no good; and she must relay this information immediately to her father.

Her knees began to ache from squatting behind the tree. She raised herself slightly to take another peek at the Soldiers. They were making camp despite the simple fact that it was still several hours before dark. Scanning the group of men in front of her, she instantly saw, why. Her eyes widened. One of the Soldiers where hurt. Two soldiers were helping a short, yet very masculine built man He seemed small in height but by know means in stature. How gave of a huge stance. He seemed battle torn and weak. Blood pouring down one of his powerful legs. Bulma hated the site of blood, but she did not look away. She could not. For she was looking at a man she had seen just once before, but had been unable to forget.

Suddenly it was hard to breathe---her lugs felt crushed and her mouth had gone dry. If only she had been able to forget him. Two years ago an alliance meeting with Earth and The Kold Empire, he had stood behind his rotten Lord. Lord Frieza, tower over the lizard Lords head which was not by much, even so he was a shorter type man. But the Lizard lord was a lot more shorter then the man before her. His face was a hard mask, while Frieza was openly smug. And beneath Frieza, on his knees in the dirt, had been her foster father Bardock, the King of Earth. Forced at the point of a wicked finger of the evil lizards glowing orb of distruction, to swear allegiance to the King of the Kold Empire, and to Lord Vegeta his alliance republic.

Bulma had been the only female present---women were not welcome at such events---and she had come in disguise. It had been a gathering of Empires, after another attempt by Bardock to invade and conquer the Kold Empire. She had been surrounded by much of Earths army, all loyal to her foster father. Yet their numbers had been pitiful in comparison to the forces facing them---the most brutal in the galaxy---that the Earl of Planate Vegeta. The man she could not remove her gaze from was the bastard heir to the earl, Prince Vegeta.

He had not noticed her then. She had been standing behind her brother, dressed as Radditz's page, careful not to draw any attention to herself, she certainly did not want her own family to recognize her, for more then a scolding would come. Radditz had been an unwilling participant to her escaped, for, he, too knew how angry their father would be for this.

Bulma Had been mesmerized by the bastard heir, staring at him from around her brother's shoulder. Once his gaze had connected with hers, a mere coincidence. The moment had lasted less then a heartbeat. As she stared at Planet Vegeta's bastard now, Bulma's fist clenched. Her gaze was riveted on the man. He was one of her father's enemies due to his obligations to the Kold Empire, and not for his people. He was a betrayer. She prayed his wound would cause him to death.

Although he did not appear to be at death's door. He had to be weak from the loss of blood and in great pain, he wore an expression similar to the one he had worn at Earth's forced alliance---hard and inscrutable. She knew he was ruthless; never had he showed the Humans of Earth mercy, or anyone else in his purged missions, yes she had heard his name---written in the stars of chaos and destruction. Was he incapable of feeling? Was he even immune to physical pain?

One large black tent had been erected in the open field, and the Sayain soldiers banner already flew beside it. It was a striking flag, it's field was divided into three diagonal bands of blue, white, and gold, in it's center a tribal crown. Bulma watched as a slave dragged out some dashing lavished comforters and linen inside the tent, while the two Soldiers supporting Prince Vegeta helped him limp within. The tent flap closed behind them.

Bulma Collapsed. She was perspiring heavily, her mouth absolutely dry. This was worse, so much worse, than she had first thought. Prince Vegeta was not just ruthless but a great military commander, exactly like Lord Frieza, and his dexterity was undisputed. He was also ambitious. The family's astonishing rise to preeminence from a history of enslavement in cave dwellings along the outer walls of Planet Vegeta. Many know of their story---there up rise from primates to advanced fighters, or so before Planet Vegeta had been created. Had the moon never had come, there enslavement would still be bonded into the earth of sweat and blood. Much like her own race. The whole Galaxy feared the ambition of Prince Vegeta. What was he doing here? What disaster did he intend to unleash upon Earth now?

Bulma knew she must return home and seek an audience with her foster father. Yet she was terrified of moving, to be caught by these soldiers would be a catastrophe. Nothing could be worse. Despite her fear, somehow she must dare to creep backwards, farther into the woods, until she could safely turn and run.

The camp was busy. The beasts (you could not phantom the rarity of these beasts, they were like a nightmare, but the only thing different where that they were real) that were being unsaddled and fed. A small, smokeless fire had been started. Broadswords, battle weapons, and armored gear were being placed carefully by laid down heavy saddles. Every indication told Bulma that this was a serious war party. If she did not escape now while the Soldiers were sill preoccupied with setting up their camp, she would have to wait until they slept, and then there would be watchful guards posted. Bulma positioned herself in a crouch, refusing to give in to her fear. A twig snapped as she shifted her weight, but no one heard it.

She let out a long breath, backing up a step, never taking her gaze from the camp. At that exact moment a breeze materialized, moving the swaying branches above her head. Bulma froze, praying.

Several of the Saiyan soldiers nearest the woods---and to her---turned, staring directly at the tree she had been hiding behind. They saw her at once. Bulma did not need any more encouragement. She lifted her skirts and fled.

"Halt! Halt now, wench!"

She heard them crashing through the woods. She ran as hard as she could. Having been raised with three powerful brothers, she was a good runner. At least Fast for a girl, but she was unused to the clumsy clogs. Abruptly she tripped hard and went sprawling down in the grass.

Chuckles could be heard, from one of the guards. It came from on of the lecherous soldiers. Just as she gained her feet, he was upon her, his hand closing on the folds of her tunic at the nape of her neck. He jerked her back to him. Bulma screamed as he reeled her in, and when she was close enough, she tried to kick him in the groin. He easily evaded her, and both he and his companion laughed at her very real efforts of resistance. He immobilized her, enfolding her in his arms. Bulma withered, but quickly she went still. There was no way to escape his hold, for a Saiyans strength was far beyond that of a humans. She fought to catch her breath.

"What is this?" Her captor's eyes widened as he got his first glimpse of his human captive. His friend startled into silence as well. The veil had slipped away, and they could clearly see her exotic features. Bulma was well aware that she was beautiful, for she had been told many times. Indeed, traveling merchants sang about the Foster daughter of Bardock, Earths Princess and her incomparable beauty. She had a pale, perfect complexion, a small fragile semi-buttoned nose, high cheekbones, and an intriguingly heart shaped-face. Her eyes were almond shaped and an azure tinted hue, her mouth was full---and simmered of sweet passion pink.

Yet Bulma knew that beauty of the flesh was unimportant. That concept had been drummed into her head by her Foster Father since she was a child in his care, so she had never cared one way or the other about her looks, until Yamcha had told her how beautiful he thought her to be just yesterday. And until now. Until she was caught by these two Saiyan Soldiers whose intentions were obvious. Desperately she tired to think, her wide, artic-ice-cold azure hues filled with a mixture of defiance and fright.

"Ha!" The tall goofy bald Saiyan Soldier laughed, pleasure transforming his expressions. "Look at this! Look at what I have snared in a trap."

"Excuse me, Nappa, but _we_ found her---_we_," His cohort responded. The other Soldiers in the camp had heard Bulma's horrific scream and began to gather around the trio. "There is no I in team Nappa."

"Ah yes, but there is an M, and an E. Usually I don't mind sharing, Broli, but not this time." Nappa Replied, tightening his hold on Bulma's arms. But Bulma wasn't struggling. Wasting her energy was pointless, especially if she need to conserve her strength in order to resist these Saiyan Soldiers. The two Elite soldiers, began to argue over her fate, while another dozen Saiyan soldiers amused themselves by, jeering and leering. Despair welled and her cheeks flamed. Unfortunately she understood the Saiyan language perfectly and missed not one of there lecherous remarks. She thought rapidly. She would be raped like any common slave unless she revealed her identity. But if she revealed her identity, she would be held hostage, a great cost to Bardock and for Earth. Both outcomes were unacceptable. She must find a middle ground, to keep her leveled.

A flash of bright Gold, and while armor caught Bulma's attentions but it died behind the darkness of the tents flap. Soon she saw a slave emerging from the tent, striding towards them. Both Broli and Nappa fell into silence as the older man approached, elbowing through the circle of men. "What's the commotion about?" His cool silver hues fell onto Bulma. "You are disturbing Prince Vegeta---and what do we have here? Tonight's entertainment I suspect?"

Bulma had had enough. "I will not be your amusement, for the likes of monkeys." She had decided to continue her disguise for as long as possible, and she spoke in a broken form of English. "Saiyan scum!"

"Come now, girl, don't you like Saiyans, Soldiers?" The older man was slightly amused. Broli wore a grin, his onyx hues seemed to shimmer a toxic unnamed blue-green intermix of aggression. His upper lip was curled, as he could feel his body flex with the ideals of a fresh woman's body beneath his own.

"I Hate you all, damn you to H E L F." Bulma spat. She was quaking inside, but she would never let them know it. Then her heart lurched. For behind the man, the tent flap moved again, this time to expose Prince Vegeta. He limped out, leaning heavily on a post. His face was drawn in pain and gray in pallor, but his eyes were bright and keenly intelligent. They lanced the small group.

"What the hell is going on around here?"

Bulma inhaled. Although a stone's throw separated them, he was bigger then she remembered, bigger and more powerful and more frightening. And he was close to being naked; he had shed his amour and most of his spandex under coating. He wore only a short pair of spandex briefs, which covered his bulge between his legs, calf-high boots, and a cloth bandage, high up on one of his powerful thighs.

Intently he met her regard. Bulma swallowed. She had seen men's legs bare before, of course, but a humans Shorts, or bathing trunks---were decently clad and different from what she was now exposed to. Now she quickly looked away, her face already flaming at the male nudity facing her, or it was more so who's legs she'd been looking at.

"Nappa appears to have caught us tonight's entertainment, Lord Vegeta." Broli stated. Bulma tensed, glancing up. Vegeta's gaze turned to one of inspection. He did not respond to his soldier as his gaze slid down her slim body. Bulma's heart thudded. She did not like the way he was looking at her, and if he thought to cow her, he would not----even though she was cowed. She glared furiously back.

"Bring her to me, slave." Prince Vegeta ordered, and then he ducked and disappeared back into his tent. The slave suddenly chuckled, a sound at odds with his features which were, battle-scarred face and cold, steel gray hues. "It appears that his lordship isn't as badly off as it appears, and I do think he has settled your arguments, Broil and Napa."

Both men hissed under there breath, but Bulme was paralyzed by the meaning of Prince Venetia's words. The slaves comment brought her to life. "No!" She cried. Despite her protest, the salve grabbed her arm and propelled her towards the tent. Bulma was a small, slender girl, but nerveless she fought him every step of the way, digging her heels, twisting frantically trying to kick him. He ignored her, dragging her with him as easily as if she were a small child.

Laughter echoed in the camp. The Soldiers found her pathetic struggle and imminent fate amusing. How sick and twisted, cool blood killers! Hot tears blurred her vision as she heard the coarse of jests being issued out about the Soldiers who watched her intently. She cold not help but understand what was being so crudely said. Graphic reference were made about the sexual prowess and physical endowment of the Prince.

"Prince Vegeta will probably kill her." Someone finally joked.

It was then that terror seized her. And then it was too late. The salve was pushing her ahead of him into the tent. Inside was dark. Bulma stumbled when the salve released her but caught herself before falling. She was trembling and out of breath as her eyes adjusted to the shadows. She finely saw him. Her enemy was half-sitting on the bed, with lavishing linen, and the comfort of a large dark black comforter, her was propped up by his pillows. His presence seemed gigantic in the small tent, and a feeling of claustrophobia and imminent danger swept over her.

Prince Vegeta sat up straighter. "You may leave us, slave."

The slave turned, and Bulma cried out. "No, don't go!" Bt the slave was already gone. She whirled around to face Vegeta, panicked slim hands raised. "Don't touch me!"

"Come here."

She froze. His words were soft, but unquestionably a command. The kind of command one automatically obeyed, but her feet did not move, and now her mind was frozen, to.

"Women, come here, now."

Bulma searched his expression. There was no insinuation in his tone to confirm that her fate was about to be a violent rape---an act that, according to all she had just heard, would most likely murder her. Nevertheless, she was shaking. Her gaze found his again he had been studying her, too, with growing impatience. "What do you want with me?" She managed to utter out, although it came out weaker then she'd liked.

"What do you think I want?" He frowned, his curled lips twisted in a snarl. "You are a women. I am in pain. Come here and tend my wound properly, now."

Bulma started and then relief flooded her. "Is that all you want from me, to aid your leg?" She was skeptical about his relay of what he'd wanted her in his tent for.

His jaw flexed. "I am used to instant obedience, women. Come here and do what you have been trained to do."

Bulma knew she must obey, for his rising temper was obvious, but if she did not reach an agreement with him now, while she had some tiny portion of power, she never would. "I'll be glad to tend to your wound, but only under the agreement that you promise to release me unharmed after."

He was openly skeptical. "I command---and you make demands?"

She knew she had pushed him as far as she should, that she should not push him any further, but despite herself, she said. "Yes, I do."

He smirked then. It was a cold and dangerous smirk that did not reach his dark glittering onyx hues, and it was infinitely frightening. "Very few men have dared to disobey me, and even fewer have survived to see the light of another day."

Bulma inhaled, unable to turn her regards away from his, unable to even blink. Whatever power he possessed consumed her. Her knees had turned soft, threatening to give way. And something dangerous and terrible in its potency seemed to reverberate between them. "Do you threaten me?" She whispered hoarsely.

"Only your sex spares you."

She had know doubt that if she were a man, or boy, she would now be dead. He was her single most hated enemy, the enemy of her people, of her family, of her foster father, Worlds King. Her situation was dire, but she must not give in to her growing panic. Bulma stiffened her spine. If ever was the time for heroics, it was now.

"Say you that you agree to my terms?"

He stared. "I think you are either the most stupid female I have yet to beet, or the bravest."

She stared back, hardly complimented and too frightened to be furious.

"You heal me and you shall e released."

Bulma grasp. She had attained what she sought, but she was certain she could not trust him, not as far as her youngest brother could spit. She had no choice, however. Grimly Bulma came forward, determined now to see to his injury, to tend to him as quickly as was possible. Praying to Kami that she would be freed as he had promised so she could immediately reveal all that she had so far learned to her father. She tried to ignore his brilliant gaze, which nee left her. Swallowing, she knelt by his side.

"A run in with one of your planets best and only fighters, although it was a natural draw---seems that Radditz has improved from our last encounter."

Bulma did not reply. Her gaze was locked upon his hard muscled, sun kissed naked thigh. The bandage was already stained with his blood. The wound was high, perilously close to his privates. For a moment her glance was drawn there, where she had no business looking---at the dark area where the spandex shorts was levitated to a small mound between his legs. Heat suffused her. Her hands shook, and she clenched the fold of her skirt.

She saw only a blur of movement there, and his huge hand was clamped around her small forearm. A second later, she was laying flat on his rock-hard chest, chin to chin with him. When he spoke, his breath licked dangerously close to her lips.

"Why do you delay, women?"

Her gaze left his mouth and flew to his perilous dark onyx hues. For the first time she saw the a spark of pain there. Something twisted in her heart, compassion she refused to entertaine. She must not think of this man as a human being, or as any being that was hurt and suffering. She must only remember him as an inhuman Saiyan monster, one capable of single-handedly and cold-bloodedly killing her people and her planet to suit his antagonistic nature.

She nodded, unable to speak, the feel of him warm and solid and disturbing beneath her young ample breast. He released her then. Bulma scrambled onto her knees at his side. She touched the bandage, lightly to test both herself and the wound infliction. Cautiously, she began to remove it.

She winced. The wound was gaping, bleeding and ugly, but not too deep. The ki blast from her older brother must of just grazed his flesh. Water and lye soap had been brought to clean the injury.

"It's going to hurt."

His gaze quarreled with her own, but he said nothing. In the dim light his eyes seemed as a jet black as his aflame hair, and this close, they were unquestionably beautiful. She pursed her lips, refusing to contemplate on such ridicules thoughts.

She worked over him, trying her best to not hurt him, she was aware of his black regard burning into her, making her terribly warm and uncomfortable. She felt small and vulnerable next to him, dwarfed by the power he displayed even while hurt and momentarily at her mercy. It was ludicrous notion. A man like this even briefly at her or anyone else's mercy. He would never submit to another's domination, not even while wrenched with pain, and especially not a human female.

The wound was finally wiped clean. Bulma paused then, wetting her now dry lips, as she gazed up at him.

"It needs to be stitched. "

"There's a needle and thread and fresh linen behind you."

Bulma looked over and nodded. She picked up both the needle and thread, hesitating.

"Perhaps you want some liquor before we start, or a pain reliving drug?"

His brow lifted with question.

"So you do have a heart beneath those pretty little breasts of yours?"

She was tense. "I may have a heart, but not for the monster like you."

"Do it." It was a wicked command.

What did she care if he suffered even more at her hands? Unfathomably angry, trembling with agitation, she picked up the needle. She had stitched up wounds before, but she would never grow accustomed to the procedure. Her stomach turned. She bent over him, working diligently and precisely, aware of his gaze on the top of her head, unable to forget his words. When she had finished she knotted the thread and cut it with her small, white teeth. Her lips gazing the clean flesh of his thigh, the contact felt like kissing lava---had it been a touchable object. She straightened then, relieved that the surgery was over.

Bulma had expected to see him drained of all color, his face a mask of pain. Instead, his eyes were entirely lucid but brilliant, dangerously brilliant, and they were holding hers. Quickly Bulma picked up a fresh piece of linen, dropping her gaze from his, it felt as if he was boring into her soul just then. When she had looked down though---

She was greeted with a sight she did not want to see, had no right to see. She had to cut a part of his shorts, and move the material out of the way, for the minor surgery. In doing so she had exposed his heavy genitals, and now, now she was quickly settling the spandex cloth back into place and the fresh linen over on top of his lap. Her face flamed, stinging. She pressed the linen into his leg, trying not to think. But those men were right. If he raped her, he would kill her. Her hands, small and delicate and white, contrasting sharply with his sun-kissed, powerful legs, trembled as she quickly tied the fresh bandage around his stitched wound.

The exact instant she was done, his hand cupped her face, forcing her chin up and her regard to his.

"You dress like hag, but act like a noble."

Bulma froze. His gaze left her eyes, sliding over her features one by one, finally lingering on her lips. "No peasant women I have ever seen has a face such as yours."

She opened her mouth but found herself incapable of summoning a self-defense. Her stunned mind could drum up only one terrible image, and that was of her captor pressing her down beneath him on his cot.

His hand left her face, but caught her own palm, turning it over. "Milk white, silk-soft."

Terrified and mute, aware that she had not a single callus, she was drawn to his glittering gaze. She recognized the intensity there now even though she had never been faced with such an uninhibited display of male lust before. The corners of his mouth lifted---an attractive, perfectly formed mouth, in such a tempting smirk. Bulma could not help but think---in an expressing that could not be described as even the semblance of a smile; rather, it hinted at aggression and triumph and primitive satisfaction. Bulma drew back, a second or too late. He had already slipped her veil from her hair. As he leaned close, nuzzling her cheeks, he said, "Your hair is clean and it smells of exotic flowers." He straightened, staring. "I have little doubt that if I looked beneath your clothes, I would find skin as clean and as sweet-smelling."

Bulma drew quickly to her feet, she did not get far. He gripped her one forearm, jerking her immediately back down on her knees beside him. "Am I correct?"

"No! Not at all! I swear to you---" Bulma's words were cut off when his hand snaked up her leg, beneath all of her clothing, a caress of a callused palm on soft, naked skin. Bulma cried out, shocked at the violent sensation sweeping through her. She was staring down dumbly at the entire length of her bare leg, from where her wool socks ended at her calf to the very top of her thigh, which he had just exposed.

"As I thought," He said, and now there was a change in his tone, one Bulma immediately recognized despite her inexperience, one that tightened every fiber of her being and made her pulse soar.

"I…I can explain," She whispered.

"Soft, so soft, and clean," He said, locking regards with her again. He did not cover up her nakedness. He did not remove his hand from her thigh, his fingertips, perilously close to grazing the ripe plumpness at the apex there. Instead, nostrils flared now, he leaned close, his face---his lips---brushing her neck.

Bulma gulped. Her eyes fell closed, her body jolted as thoroughly by his kiss as if a bolt of lightning. There was no air to be had in the cramped space of the tent. His mouth moved with growing fever on the vulnerable underside of her exposed neck. His thumb slipped through her pubic hair and up against the cleft of her flesh. Bulma could not contain herself. She moaned. Her mind, once filled with hostility, was now dizzily blank, receptive to nothing but the stunning sensation he dealt her as deftly as he would a final attack.

He crooned in her ear, his mouth against one lobe, his thumb against another, "So who are you---women? And more importantly, what are you, if not a spy?"

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-More to come: Depending on Reviews.


	3. Decite

Authors note: (Grins) Here is the update for the next chapter, there may be a few errors but eh, I am after all only human. I am hardly perfect. Once again, I apologize for slow updates. I base off my updates from Reviews, and of course by free time (whenever that is.) So the more Reviews I get the quicker I am to update my next chapters (hint-hint) so please make sure to read, and review---and share your comments.Thanx to all those who Review, and I hope this chapter makes you smile. >:-

* * *

Thee Untamed Soldier

Chapter Two: Deceit

By: Envy My Pain

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Prince Vegeta watched her yank away from him with a shriek of fright. Had he thrown icy water over her head, he could not have shocked her more. She did not get far. His grip was iron on her wrists. Casually he pulled her back to him, until her nose almost touched his.

He was indifferent to women, with precisely two exceptions, but he was not immune to females he found attractive, and this one was probably as close to perfection in relation to a female Saiyan as or close to any species that he would ever come to find---in face and form, at least. Despite the fact that she was no common wench---that undoubtedly she was an experienced courtesan sent to whore for him and spy upon him by his enemies, of whom he had a few---he was hardly indifferent to the entire length of her naked leg, now clamped between his, or the softness of her breast, crushed against his chest, or the astounding beauty of her exotic features of her face, that was mere itches from his own.

Blood had long since surged below, he was heavy and impatient. Their position was so intimate that she could feel every inch of him, but wasn't seduction her intention? Why else would such a women be sent to him in such an elaborated disguise? He attributed her wide, frightened gaze to his having ascertained the truth.

For a moment, despite his better intentions, he debated with himself---in taking her. Then and there, hard and fast, and he'd be done with it. Answers could come later. But he was his father's son and heir. Furthering the interests of Planet Vegeta, and it's growing Empire. It had been his overriding ambition since he had won his Warrior title of an Elite at the prime age of thirteen. Which was very young to gain such an honorable title, and one of the most bitterly enduring title to have. His reputation as a keen and ruthless leader had been earned, not given. Answers could not wait. If his enemies knew he was there, his plans were in jeopardy.

"Wh-What?" Bulma finally managed to grasp out.

"I think you heard me very well, women." He stated, coldly.

Because his blood was so overheated, he set her down on the cot beside him while keeping a cautious grip upon her forearm. Inherent politeness made him refer to her as if she were noble when she was obviously the furthest thing from it. To look at her, a man would never have guessed. For some unfathomed reason, he was oddly disappointed that her angelic façade was only that, a façade.

"Who sent you here, spy? Frieza, or that traitor Bardock and his son? Or is Kakarot once again up to his irritating pranks?"

She stared at him as if mesmerized, he was a hardened warrior, yet a small sweep of empathy fazed upon him. The courtesans he knew---and so frequently used---were a lot older in age, and most where sex slaves, or concubines. She was young, very young. The girl he was looking at, could be no more older then fifteen or sixteen, but then again---looks could be deceiving.

"I am not a spy!" She whispered out with disbelief.

"Don't treat me as a fool," he said coldly.

"You promised you'd release me!"

"I am not yet healed," a smirk slid to his dark features, as he watched her comprehend his statement. Instantly she understood the meaning behind his trickery, he watched as rage suffused her features. He should not be surprised at how quick she was. Only a very clever women would be sent to work her famine charm upon him.

"You---you, jerk! You deceived me." She cried out. "You made me believe you'd let me go after I tended to your wound."

"You believed what you chose to believe." His patience was at an end. "Enough, I demand answers and I demand them now. Who are you and who sent you?"

She shook her head, tears coming to her eyes, tears that could not, he told himself would effect him. He had a cold heart, one molded into steel and thorns, sense the young age of six. He knew from many years of experience that, with very few exceptions, women were not to be trusted. This one was not one of those exceptions; indeed, she should be mistrusted more than most. She was young but no innocent and no child. Undoubtedly her fear and tears were theatrics and nothing more.

"Once again, you Jerk! I am not a spy."

Another thought had occurred to him. "Tell me, did Son-Bardock send you?"

She started, "No! He didn't. I don't even know him! I am not a spy, I swear it!"

She was lying. He was certain of it. Just as he was certain now that Son Bardock, was behind this treachery. Newfound anger made him doubly grim.

"I warn you, women, I have the means of extracting information from you, and once provoked, I am merciless."

"Please! I can explain to you, this is not what you think!"

"Then I suggest you do so now."

"I---I am a bastard, my father was a scientist named Malcolm Briefs of Capsule Corporations. My mother was dependable on my fathers technology and support. She was a nobody, a stay at home mom---they were killed on the full moon of Earths first purge. I'm a slave to the Saiyan Empire who took rule of Earth. I am a nobody---I work in West City and a free-working slave," She blurted fast.

He did not change his cold frown, such a claim was only possible if she thought to dupe him, giving her absurdly ill-fitting disguise. And it was possible that she was actually telling the truth, although he himself already knew that Earth Empire held little to the Saiyans Empire during Bardocks determination to crush the Kold Empire, knowing the Freiza was the doom of the galaxy. He would rather fight off the Prince and King's wrath of his own heritage and blood, in order to defy the Lizard bastard's commands to subdue to the Kold Empires will. Son Bardock was no ally---he was an enemy that could not be trusted until the treaty was renewed between the two broken Saiyan Empires of Earth and Planet Vegeta. Son Bardock, one of the finest fighters in the galaxy; his sons close behind where a tempting advantage to once and all take over the Kold Empire, all in due time. Until then no one was to be trusted.

"Eager now to volunteer information, women? Where is this Capsule Corporations?"

"The outskirts of West city, as far west as you can go." She worried her hands in her lap, avoiding his intense gaze.

It was an excellent lie. He would not be able to confirm her parentage in a timely manner, although confirm it, he would. He almost felt a grudging respect for her, she was no fool. And to come to him on such an errand took a great deal of courage.

"As far West as you can go," He repeated. "As far West as Turtle (Hermit) island?"

She smiled in relief. "Almost."

He sat very still, regarding her in a cold stature. It was the first time that she had smiled since he had laid his eyes upon her, and if he had thought her beautiful before, she was magnificent now. The interrogation had distracted him from his carnal tendency, but now his blood rioted and his manhood reared rock-hard against his spandex shorts, that had been semi-torn. Gruesomely, he investigated forward.

"I see. And what brings you so far South to the boarders of the Son Bardock?"

She was flushing, a thin pink passion trail of a rose petals tender caress licked high upon her cheeks, tearing her gaze from his spandex rise of his shorts. He could almost see her mind working. It was clear to him that she thought frantically for a plausible answer, which puzzled him greatly. If she were as clever as he was becoming convinced that she was, she should have memorized her story far in advanced of there meeting. That, and her blush. That damnable innocent blush.

"I am from the out skirts of West City, where I work. My family use to own the company business that later on was taken over by the Saiyan Empire. I was only a toddler when Earth was purged, so I don't remember much of what my father partook in, but I had taken over Co-owner ship from the science division team---still keeping partly some of the funding and stocks that the business turns in with it's invention teams every year. The Empire, was kind enough to allow me to a small percentage of it's yearly income to support myself and to keep part ownership in my family's business. To that I am very grateful.

Prince Vegeta leaned his back against the pillows behind him, on his cot. As he chuckled softly. "A memorable performance, women."

"You don't believe me?"

"I do not believe a single world you have said."

She froze, her azure hues where lit up and captivated to his.

"You have ten seconds, women, to tell me all of the truth. If you fail to do so, you shall suffer the consequences forewarned."

She grasped, pulling away from him. He knew her intentions the moment that she did. She shoot to her feet, intent on escape. Although there was nowhere for her to go, but into the arms of his men. Vegeta only responded as any hot red-blooded Saiyan warrior would. Despite the pain that shot through him, he staggered to his feet, too. He caught her at once. She screamed.

Without so much as a thought, he turned her in his arms and griped the back of her head and covered her mouth with his. He had touched her intimately, but he had not really tested her pink-passionate lips, that begged for a mans attentions. Not in the manner he had wished to, from the moment he first grazed upon her extraordinary exotic features. He had kissed her openmouthed and thoroughly he tainted her with his wicked tongue only to have her force him out. His hands slid down her back, each palm cupping one of her firm fresh young buttocks. "Let us try again, little one," He said hoarsely, lifting her up against his raging erection. He moved his mouth down on hers.

"No," she had started to utter, but was cut off as his mouth opened hers quickly. Vegeta plumbed her warmth with his wicked tongue once again, each thrust becoming more and more forceful, more ravenous.

Tentatively she met one, and the tips of their tongues touched for the first time.

He could no longer contain himself, his body surged even more wildly, more impossible, in response to her---he wanted complete, instant submission. He expected it. He need it---now. But to his amazement, she suddenly pulled her face away from his. "No---I cannot do this!"

"Do not test me now, wench." He growled, catching her chin in one hand. He forced her mouth up to his again.

She cried out in another halfhearted protest. She raised her small fist against his solid chest, but then found herself clutching to his exposed flesh with need, her fingers accidentally began to stroke at his tenderly solid chest. Brushing over his tanned nipples all in one as her fingers seemed to message there with need. Vegeta would have laughed with primitive delight except for the fact that he was too intent now to laugh about anything. Their mouths were fused, and their tongues were mated.

Suddenly she had torn her face away. She struggled frantically now in his iron embrace, as if to escape, yet her ever twist lead her to brush wickedly upon the arch of his manhood, it was an artful and agonizing as a ships whore's purposeful caress. As an actress, she was superb. For it was almost as if she were not a seductress, as if knowing the end was near, she was truly panicked. Despite his brief confusion, he could not stop himself now. He only tried to reassure himself that she was deliberately provoking him into a state of confusion. To incite him even more wholly.

The Prince, had had enough of these games. He had no desire to spill his royal seed upon them both, which at this state he feared he might actually do. He pushed her down once again forcibly to the cot, as she continued to play the unwilling wench. Her fist bouncing pitifully off of him, making small, fearful sounds. He took her mouth again and when there hips touched one another for the first time, he settled himself upon her. She was still now. Unmoving.

Lightning appeared to have struck them both. "I will wait no more, little one." He whispered, a spell of words he had never whispered before he had met her. Those artic-azure hues, that he now gazed upon as he spoke were wide with emotions he could not identify. Her face was flushed with that passion pink color tone, and sheen with a thin layer of sweat. She did not move, and her palms curled about his massive shoulders, gripping them tightly as a human female could. Incomparable to a Saiyans grasp---but he could feel it then and there. A smirk curled upon his sinister features.

The Prince began to spread her legs wide with his knees, beginning to shake fiercely. He was aware of the drops of his own sweat that rolled down his face, and onto her shaking flesh bellow. He flicked her long tunic up to her waist, and for a single moment, was suspended above her in his male dominance.

There gaze clashed again, it met and held. She attempted her open her parted lips to speak, but said nothing. Vegeta looked to her breasts. Watching them heave for starved air---he noticed her nipples were tight and rect. It tempted him, and so he touched one. He watched her eyes drop close, and heard her sob, the sound laden with anguish.

He looked down at her and could no more help himself from fully touching her exposed flesh. He slid his hands between her legs and found the folds of her flesh swollen, and heavy with the pulse of her blood. She was hot for him as he was for her, spy or not. This was no act. He thrust a finger into her.

He froze. There was no mistaking the barrier he had come up against. He was shocked. She could not be a virgin---She was a whore sent to spy. But she was a virgin; it was a proven fact now.

In the midst of confusion there was a sudden and sweeping sense of ecstasy---she had never known a man; he would be her first. This far aroused, he had never denied himself---a Prince. But he had never taken a virgin before---unlike many men he knew, rape had never excited him. If she was a virgin, then she was no whore or a paid vessel sent to spy.

Vegeta's mind reached these astounding conclusions in mere seconds. It was probable the hardest deed he had ever done, but he launched himself off of her. Dazed and panting, he lay unmoving on his stomach beside her, wishing that the mid-sized cot was pressing himself into was much, much harder.

Sanity returned swiftly despite the persistent ache that lay in his spandex shorts. There were no virgin whores, no virgin spies he could think of. Was it possible that she had been telling him the truth all along? Was her father some decised Scientist, and mother a brainless twit---who depended on the male competence for success? It was plausible, yet he doubted it. Her hands had never seen rough labor, but she was dressed as a slave who labored. If she was a bastard slave, why had she been raised like a noble. This costume was a disguise, but why?

Suddenly she moved. She slid from the cot, as quick as a wild vixen. Vegeta was even quicker, reaching out and grabbing her before she took a second step to her attempted escape, he did this without moving from the soft lush bedding of his cot. His leg hurt too much now for such crazed antics. The force of his grip caused her to fall in a heap at his side.

Restraining a groan, he sat up and extended his hand to her. "Women?"

She was out of breath, her lungs grasping for air. Although he saw that she was furious, he allowed her to take his hand and he lifted her to her feet. It was a mistake. Immediately she drew back to her fist and hit with all of her strength in his jaw.

He didn't move, unaffected by her futile attempts to inflict him with injury. He was rendered speechless.

"Saiyan Bastard! You are a brainless twit, a monkey no better, you're a brainless brute, and a liar!" She shrieked. She raised her fist to hit him again. This time the Prince reacted. He caught her wrist, pulling her forward. She wound up in his lap.

"No!" She screamed, twisting to pull free of him.

He held her in place. "You have deceived me, struck me, and insulted me," He said harshly, shaking her once. She went still. "I thought you brave, but now I am beginning to think you very foolish---or even mad."

She lifted her chin, a defiant gesture, despite the fact that her eyes were glazed with unshed tears. "I am not mad---Ape!"

His jaw tightened. "You have lost your burr, women."

She paled, "When can I leave?"

"You were not so eager to leave me---and my bed---a few moments ago."

She flushed. "No, I am eager to leave your poor excuse for a bed---and you with it. This second if not soon enough."

"Who's the liar now?"

"I speak only with the utmost integrity!"

"I fail to believe that. Indeed, this far you have not spoken a single word that is true. I ask you again, who are you and why are you here?"

She swallowed, meeting him stare for stare. He felt her mind working. "Please, unhand me." She said meekly. "And then I will tell you what you demand to know."

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Read-Review-Remarks

I apologize for the lack of the update, I personally don't think I'm getting enough reviews to keep the up posting ongoing. I feel that given the chance to get the story up and going a little more I should ensnare a few more readers. I sold my soul to the ARMY, I am trying to keep up with typing---please let me know how this chapter came out.


	4. Redemption

-Authors note: I personally apologize for the agonizingly slow update. It would seem that, the army has had me doing other things, which doesn't include free time. Here is the next chapter, I'll dedicated this chapter to my reviewers. I'll try not to disappoint you.

Disclaimers: I don't own any Dragonball Z rights, and/or Copyrights

* * *

Thee Untamed Soldier

By: Envy My Pain

Chapter Three: Redemption

* * *

Giving her a skeptical sidewards glance, he did as she requested. She edged back to her feet and put a length of the militant tent between them, standing with her back to the exit, hugging herself defensively. Her posture made him see her as a child, not a women, and he was suddenly somewhat ashamed of his behavior. By all the galactic guardians, he had treated her as he would a common space whore, and she was a young defenseless slave. A virgin at that, certainly not more then sixteen. Perhaps the real question wasn't who was she, but what was she? A virgin or whore, villein or lady, child or women? Spy or innocent?

"You may begin with your name."

She wet her lips before she complied with his simple yet determined command. "Bra. Bra Briefs. As I've already told you before, my father is Malcolm Briefs. Both my parents are deceased, and were once the Capsule Corps. founders. My father was the chief scientist and inventor. He ran the business, building it from the ground up---he was killed under the full-moon when Bardock and his sons came hear to seek cover from Frieza; they never new that or system worked differently then your own; but your race did. They knew how valuable Earth would be and the resources it could provide to your planet…I was told that was all that spared us and are home world. How fortunate for us."

She flinched. "And you were right---these clothes are a disguise."

Tersely he said, "Were you sent to me as a spy?"

"No!" She was pale. "I was disguised because I was meeting someone. A---A man of some sort."

And Vegeta understood. "Hmm…I see now. A man."

Again her small chin lifted. "It's not what you think! The man was, I mean, he is arranged to be my husband."

His stare was ice. "You have yet to explain your disguise."

"Well isn't it obvious enough? It's unseeingly for a women slave, even with my elected status to be caught with a man, even when that man is to be their husband, and you already assumed as much, stop playing me for a fool!"

"And pray tell, who is this paragon warrior I assume. Who'd lure you to an undoubted fall from havens grace, Little one?"

She bit her lip. "Why is it your concern?"

It shouldn't matter, except for the fact that he intended to verify every word she said. "It matters." He was not pleased to realize that he was irritated---perhaps even jealous---that this women obviously desired another man. "Do you love this warrior?"

She was furious. "That, Prince Vegeta, is none of your business! Prince or no Prince."

It wasn't. He stood stiffly, finding his staff in order to lean upon it. Then he limped to her until he was towering over her even if it was only by 2 inches, his body was massive and the very air he breathed was intimidating; but she stood her ground. The wild exotic minx she was.

"To the contrary, women, you are now wholly my affair. And until I am satisfied, you will be detained."

She lost the little color she had left. "_Until you are satisfied, I will be detained! _What do you mean?"

"I mean," He said grimly, "that I intend to unearth the truth, about you, and until I do, you are my guest." He hobbled past her, raising the tent flap.

"Your guest?" She cried after him. "You mean that I am your prisoner! But why? What have I done? I have done nothing, Saiyan!"

He paused and turned. "To the contrary, Slave. You have whetted my very jaded appetite, and my even more jaded interest. If you are indeed of little importance, I think we will suit well, you and I, for a time, at least."

Bulma stared after his back as he limped from the tent, leaving her alone. What did that last remark mean? Oh, Kami! She dared not delude herself. He suspected her deceit, intended to find the truth, and whether he did or not, she was in great jeopardy!

She sank down to the hard dirt floor, limp and drained. Prince Vegeta, Lord of the Saiyan Empire, he was one of the most power warlords in the galaxy, first having been an personal adviser to King Kold that cold alien bastard! The one who ordered for the purge of Earth--- the Saiyans who claimed it as a war prize, and now he was a personal adviser to that bastards son, that rotten alien scum. The same spitting image of his father, Lord Freiza. The Kold empire was her foster father's worst enemy, and so was this man, this bastard son the next heir to the throne of Vegeta.

Bardock and Vegeta had clashed on too many occasions to count. Planet Vegeta wasn't always ruled by Saiyan dictator ship---it had been a planet which had lavished with an alien race fare more technologically advanced then the barbaric apes that scalped the caves, and mountain dwellings. They were nothing, until the birth of the moon---where they discovered there true ability to some mysterious primitive power. Then, King Kold had taken them under his arm, given them an Empire and technology to purge and destroy---with the agreement to do there will. They sold there souls to the devil himself. Genocide was nothing in comparison to what the Kold Empire did, and what these primitive warriors did in the name of Freiza.

Now, the Saiyan Empire was galaxies wide. It had expanded through one system to the next. It was to be converted into the will of the mighty Lords, or to parish---and die. To be forgotten. Forever. Earth was under the protection of the Saiyan Empire, the resources of the planet were far to rich to expose of. The planet had plenty of sources and it's weak dominating species had intelligence that adequately made up for it's indifferences. It was a controllable race, and a rebellion was less then threatening and very rarely occurred, although Bardock and his sons were more lenient to rebelling under there own Empire in order to set a freedom of enslavement of the Kold Empire. Something Bardock considered Prince Vegeta to much a coward to commit to. Her father had blamed his young naive age, and his inexperience as leader, and a incompetent father who was blinded by greed and power.

The Princes parting words echoed, a frightening refrain. If she understood him, he intended to alleviate his lust on her if he thought her to be of no importance to anyone. Thus, if he did not learn the truth of her identity, she would be taken and used until he tired of her and discarded her. She would, in fact, be ruined. Yamcha would no longer want her. Of course, he was no fool and he would sill marry her, after all, she was the princess of with a great dowry---and her foster father was one of the strongest fighters in the known galaxy.

She almost wept. The only thing worse would be if the Saiyan Prince learned the truth. If he discovered that she was the foster daughter of Son Bardock of Earth, she would be a hostage until her father paid whatever exorbitant ransom her captor demanded. She did not fool herself for an instant. The Prince would do his best to cripple her father. He would demand far more then gold and coin; he would demand his kingdom. Which was in all actuality the Princes to begin with. Precious, priceless land of earth. Home. Land that the humans blood, and allied Saiyans had been spilled. In the name of freedom.

After the ransom was paid---and her father would pay it---Earth would once again be plunged into a fierce bloody war. Two years' fragile peace would disintegrate like the wisps of yesterday's dreams. She clenched she small fists, sucking in not just her breath but her courage. Her situation could not possibly be worse. Now she was fiercely glad she had not revealed her identity to him.

The Saiyan Prince was evil, she thought grimly---he had proved that beyond hearsay---but he was no fool. He had proved that, too. He had been quick to see through her careful, elaborated disguise, and he doubted the tale she had invented, a tale that was not unreasonable and might have fooled a lesser man. She would need every ounce of courage she had and then some; she would need all of her shrewd wits as well. She must not let him even guess who she was. For having met him, Bulma realized the extent of his power and his will. If there was a way for him to discover the truth of her identity, the Prince would undoubtedly find it, and once he did, her father and Earth---and herself would suffer the horrible consequences.

Just like her father used spies all the time, this man would certainly use them, too. By this evening there would be a crisis at Earths Joint alliance' apart of the large Empires Crops, over her disappearance. A Saiyan spy would eventually report this…for how easy it was for a saiyan to disguise himself as one of her own fathers people. Bardock had told her before, trust no one, not even yourself. There are spies for the Prince, and spies for the Kold Empire. Was her captor intelligent enough to guess the truth once he learned that Bardock's foster daughter was missing? How could he not comprehend her identity in such circumstances!

Bulma closed her eyes. How could she keep her identity hidden yet still hold him at bay for any length of time? It seemed an impossible task. Escape was the only solution but for the moment, that, too, was an impossibility. She wiped her eyes. Tears solved nothing. She must ready herself for their next war of wits and wills. So far she had not done very well. And she did not want to repeat what had just passed between them---the encounter that had drained her, yet left her feeling disturbed and agitated and so strangely ripe.

What had just passed between them? Bulma made a choked sound, her mind flooding with fresh memories. To her horror, she could still feel his touch, his mouth on hers, his hard loins on hers, and her body began throbbing. She covered her face with her hands. Bulma could no longer avoid her shame. It overwhelmed her.

Exhaustion overtook her. She would not dwell upon that bastard anymore. She shifted to look longingly at the fur pallet. She could only guess whether 'he' would return to sleep there or not, and she was too fatigued now to think clearly. But it didn't matter. She could not lie in his bed, even alone; the very idea was appalling.

Bulma slid to the dirt flooring, huddling into a small ball. Finally numbness settled upon her aching mind, but her sleep eluded her. She drifted restlessly, listening to the sounds of the night and the camp, the, the nickering of horses, a hooting owl, the men talking quietly outside, until the lat of their voices died down. As the human sounds fades, she tensed, waiting for the inevitable footsteps---footsteps she was certain would come. She lay rigid for a long time, but they did not come---he did not come.

When Bulma awoke---she awoke with his face close to her own. For one instant she did not move, dazed with the haze of sleep, gazing into glittering eyes that were not as black as she had first saw them, but a rich maple brown. Then reality hit her with a violent force and she jerked away from him. He had been leaning over her, to touch his face almost to hers, but now he straightened.

"I hope your story proves to be correct--women." His meaning was not lost upon her.

"Get away from me!"

"What frightens you women? Is it me you fear, or yourself?

Bulma found the blade of her tongue. "Why would I fear myself? The only thing a fear is the sick sadistic bastard. A Saiyan who's heritage is to rape as causal as a sport of sparring."

He chuckled. "I can assure you, little one, I have never participated in that particular act of violence, and I never will." He added, very low, "I have never needed to, and when you join me in my bed, it will be with enthusiasm---the same kind of enthusiasm that was in evidence last night."

His blunt reference to her appalling behavior yes day infuriated Bulma. "You will never see such enthusiasm from me again!"

He lifted a dark brow in question. "Are you challenging me?" His smirk was genuine. "I enjoy challenges, women."

She shook her head vehemently, her heart tripping. "You have now power over me."

"To the contrary, I have an ancient power over you, women. The power of a man over a women."

"I'm not like most women."

"No?" His teeth flashed in a fishes grin, "You appeared to be a women as any other last night, when you lay mewling beneath me, a women both in my power and at my mercy. But if it makes you feel better, I will admit that you are far more interesting then all the women I have---so far met. Far more interesting, fare more intriguing, and---" He smirked again, his eyes suddenly warm "---far more exotic and beautiful."

Bulma fought the seduction that simmered in the intensity of his gaze. She bristled. "I do not mewl, Saiyan. And you may say whatever you like, you may think as you undoubtedly will, but it does not change what I feel, and what I feel for you is better left unsaid."

He eyed her for a long moment, assessing. "Beneath the anger there is more to explore, I think. Nerveless, we are wasting not just words but time. We leave in a quarter hour. I suggest you take a few private moments to do what you must. This dispute can be concluded on Vegeta."

Prince Vegeta turned and limped away, moving remarkably well for a man who had recently suffered a gore wound. Bulma started after him, relieved that he was gone. Every encounter she survived---intact---seemed to her no small victory.

But she was also dismayed. Planet Vegeta was the new thrown to the western Empire. The earl, the bastard princes father, had spent some fifteen years completing it, and rumor held it to e an impenetrable fortress. Something that could even withstand the fury of Frieza. If that was true, it meant that once she was imprisoned there, she had no hopes of being rescued. It flashed through Bulma's mid that by this morning, Bardock and his only son left, would be scouring the countryside looking for her. Perhaps she could be rescued before being imprisoned on Planet Vegeta. She must be rescued first! It was her only hope. What if she were to leave a sign for Bardock? How could she do this? Quickly she shoved aside the fur she had been covered with, trembling with excitement. Someone had brought her a bowl of water, and Bulma quickly washed. She hurried from the tent and stopped.

The horse-like beasts were being saddled up, and on father exploration she noticed how much the Earth horse and the animal before her looked so much alike. Although these creatures were double the size massive, and evil looking in there shielded armor. Less traceable then if they were to take ships and quicker on foot, then in flight were one would risk reveling there ki. There main amber-like similar to a fire, and she took note to the smoke that rolled from there corners of there lashing mouths, and nostrils.

She speculated that they we engulfed with fire, that was controlled by there handlers. They were so busy with mending up camp and there animals for the moment, and then Bulma saw her captor, talking with another Elite warrior, his back was to her.

Bulma took a calming breath, prayed that the Prince would not notice her. But he suddenly turned to face her. Bulma ignored him, hoping her sudden excitement didn't show, as she began to walk into the woods. She was well aware that one of the warriors trailed after her, obviously instructed to guard her. Her spirits were dimmed somewhat, but not her determination. Bulma disappeared behind a tree and some bushes to tend some pressing needs. In the process she tore off a piece of her fine silk chemise, worn beneath both slave tunics, one well laundered and bone white. Her hands were shaking so badly that it took several attempts to tie the bright piece of fabric to a swaying tree branch. When she had succeeded she tore off several additional strips, stuffing them up her sleeves. She hurried around the bushes to where the warrior stood, his back to her. Her hopes soared. Surely one of the scouts searching for her would find the flag she had left!

The warrior escorted her back to the camp and her captor, the Prince was in conversation with the man who had captured her yesterday.

"Capsule Corps, compound?" Turlas was saying. "It should not be a problem, Prince Vegeta; after all by tonight everyone will be well crocked from the wedding feast. I can find out what you want, my lord." He flashed him a cocky smile.

Vegeta smacked him roughly on the shoulder. "Godspeed." He tilted a smirk towards Bulma. "Is there a message you wish to give someone? Your beloved fool, perhaps?

Bulma was frozen, but only for an instant. "Do you have eyes on the back of your head like some misshapen monster?"

He was amused. "Did you really think to eavesdrop? If you wish to know my intentions, you need only ask, little one."

"Why is he going to the Capsule Corps. Compound?"

"Do you have something to hide?"

"Of course not."

"Then you have nothing to fear."

He was toying with her, testing her, and she was justifiably anxious. "Why are you doing this?"

His amusement faded. "Because I cannot help myself."

They started at each other. His gaze was briefly penetrable, and Bulma saw dark desire and even darker determination. He exerted a magnetism upon her that she was powerless against. She shuddered with a sudden foreboding she dared not comprehend. It was far safer to ignore whatever had passed between them, to pretend it did not exist, had never existed.

He broke a spell he had so effectively cast. "Come, we are leaving; you shall ride with me."

Bulma did not move. He dropped the hand extended. "Is something wrong, Bra?"

"I wish to ride with anyone else but you."

He planted himself in front of her and stared down at her. "But I am not giving you a choice. Little one."

He smiled slightly. "Besides, riding with me will be very entertaining."

(Now, to understand why they were ridding, was simple. There ship was a days travel from there prime location. They didn't want to be located around the boarder lines spying. It was easier to use the 'Nightmares' which was the breed similar to the horse---which had been described before. I want to assure that none of you are getting loss; and yes Nightmare is the exact replica of the horse in Dungeons and Dragons.)

She understood the innuendo and could feel her face flame, but at least his frankness was something she could deal with. "You are so typically cocksure."

He chuckled, that rich rumbling sound. "Did I hear that remark from a woman's lips?"

"I do not care what you think of me," She gritted. "Where is your damn beast?"

He pointed, laughing at her in mockery, his fanged teeth flashing white. Bulma marched to the big huge black 'Nightmare' his laughter echoing in her mind. She resolved to outwit him no mater what the cost, and when she did, she would fling her triumph into his face. Then she would be the one laughing.

Vegeta assured his horse ,(we'll call it that for now)for these animals were very temperamental to be ridden by an unknown rider. The flames could severally hurt the women. Soon as he knew his horse was assured he lifted her into the saddle effortlessly, then swung up behind her with the grace of a much smaller man. Bulma tried to ignore the feel of his hard thick male body behind her. She griped the pommel tightly. It was going to be a very long day; if of that she had no doubt.

They traveled at a rapid trot, away from the comfort of her Empire. They traveled through rocky, rolling hills, and September had swept much rain across the countryside, and the land was green and verdant. It was clear to Bulma that he was intent on reaching the Main Ship today. Obviously whatever mission the Prince had been about had been accomplished. She brooded upon the possibilities. She was determined to learn what the Saiyans had been doing in the vicinity of the outskirt lands of her Fathers territory and so close to the Capsule Corps. Compound.

And every hour that passed, Bulma let a piece of her chemise slip from her sleeve and flutter to the ground. Their pace did not let up until they stopped to water the horses at noon. By then they were surrounded by the harsher skies of gray---they were near the ship now. Occasionally gulls wheeled above them. Bulma thankfully slid to the ground, drained from having to endure the intimacy of sharing a saddle with her captor for so many endless hours. She though that it was close to hell as she might ever come.

No one was paying attention to her. Around her the warriors spoke in low tones, their mouths drank deeply with there traveling water bags to there lips. Bulma edged closer to a single gaunt tree. She sat down with a show of fatigue, and let slip another piece of chemise. When the warriors had remounted and reassembled a few minutes later, she got to her feet and ambled back to the group. The prince rode his great powerful monster of a horse, slowly towards her.

"Enjoying the scenery, are we?"

She glared. "What is there to enjoy in this scene? Nothing surrounds me but ugliness."

"Spoken like a true slave." His gaze pierced her. "Are you a slave, Bra?"

She stilled. Was he the devil---and a reader of minds? Or had he guessed her identity?

"I am a slave through and through."

"You don't speak like a slave---except when you choose to. Your wording is flawless."

"Perhaps, Saiyans are to stupid and dim-witted to learn to speak Japanese well."

His jaw tightened. "Perhaps this Saiyan has been dim-witted indeed." He slid from his horse, giving her an enigmatic look. Bulma did not like his words or his tone. She froze when, instead of lifting her into the saddle, he walked right past her.

He walked directly to the misshapen tree where she had been sitting. Bulma's heart skipped. He stooped and retrieved a piece of her chemise. His strides were hard as he returned to her, clenching the silky fabric in his fist. "What a clever little minx you are."

Bulma took a step back. His hand shot out, jerking her forward. "If you are so eager to shed your clothing, women, you need only say so."

Bulma could not summon up a suitable response, especially no in the face of his fury.

"For how long have you been leaving these signs, women! For how LONG!"

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Authors remarks: Well, here you guys go. I know it's not as long as you guys would have liked it to be, but I have to pack up. And head off to another training site for a two week military school. Fun, fun. So read and review. When I come back and feel stratified with enough reviews and good impute I shall submit another exciting chapter. 


	5. Defiance

Disclaimers: I do not own.

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Thee Untamed Soldier

By: Envy My Pain

Chapter Four: Defiance

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"Your hurting me!" Bulma whimpered out with a cry.

Vegeta had instantly released her. Bulma backed away from him, rubbing her arms. "Did you really think you could take me prisoner without a fight?"

Vegeta was regretting hurting her, but her worlds made him itch to shake her again. Was this child-women determined to fight him?

"For how long?"

"Since this morning."

Vegeta was incredulous, stunned by her wit, her audacity, and her bravery.

"I have greatly misjudged you," He said harshly.

Then he shouted, "Napa!"

A tall older, and bald sayain was at his side instantly. "My Prince?"

Vegeta did not remove his furious gaze from his captive. "This shrewd little minx has made fools of us all. She has been leaving a trail. Alert the men; we may have pursuit."

With in seconds Napa wheeled his Nightmare' and with seconds he was galloping off, following his leaders orders. No questions, no pause. Just action. Within that second Vegeta reached out and pulled Bulma closer as she began to sidle away. Her body stiffened at the contact; he had to drag her with him.

"So tell me women, just whom were you alerting, hmm? Your lover perhaps, or---your family?"

"Yes!" She cried. "Yes, yes, and yes! And soon, so very soon you shall be skewered by my father's fists! You heartless bastard! My fathers the greatest warrior on earth! Radditz is nothing compared to the fury of what my fathers capable of. "

She set her mouth defiantly.

"So your father is not this supposed Dr. Briefs of Capsule Corporation as you prettily insist, is he, women? Such an insignificant man would never attack me, and we both know it. So who are you expecting, Bra? Is that even your name?

She said nothing to his question.

He very angrily propelled her towards his awaiting mount. Bulma stumbled, then had to skip to keep ahead of him and out of his reach. Vegeta didn't care. He abruptly caught her, and heaved her into the saddle as if she were a sack of grain. He leapt onto the nightmare behind her, signaling his men. The cavalcade rode off at a faster canter.

Bulma closed her eyes, giving in to a moment's despair. She should not be distraught , she knew that; she should be elated. She had outfoxed the Saiyan with her trail of scraps. But she did not feel like gloating; she felt something close to terror. The bastard heir was enraged. Every instinct Bulma had told her that there would be hell to pay for her small victory.

They rode harder now. Bulma found herself frequently looking over her shoulder, hoping for a glimpse of her family, upon the horizon. She saw nothing, and as every mile passed, her hopes sank a little bit more. Where the heck was her father? Now they climbed a long, gradual rise, and when at the summit, Vegeta abruptly drew his mount to a halt, claming her to his powerful, armored body. His words quelled any protest she might have made.

"You've lost women," He stated. "Look."

Dread rushed over her and she was heedless of how harshly she gripped his thick forearm, cutting her fingertips on his saiyan armor. They had arrived---and she was lost. Ahead lay the main ship, behind it lay the main headquarters for the Saiyan enterprise of the old republic. It was on the eastern slope; and Bardock respected his race; although his rebellion was galactic wide, he'd never dare assault his own countrymen. Even though he despised the Kold Empire, and he assured that his King and Prince knew his true feelings of utter resentment towards the Kold Empire and of course the political standpoint of his own people standing behind everything that was against the Saiyan beliefs.

Bardock, was no saint. His son's were no saint. They had destroyed and purged just as ruthless as the next dominating race, but even Bardock showed mercy to civilian warfare. If there was no challenge for him, what reason was there to strike the fear of a worlds god upon it's people and then to kill and price it out to the highest bidder. Money was more easily assessable with resources. Each planet holds it's own priceless value of what it's inner core can create. Riches, jewels, oils, things that are required to run and operate. It was common sense…but Lizard lord eliminated countless races, and worlds---all for a single price. Not for gain, but fear. Yes he feared what other races could do; instead of offering help, support and satiability he offered destruction.

What victory was there in countless blood shed. When the blood was tainted. He had honor, and he'd lost his sons to King Vegeta, he'd lost them to the support of a worthless cause. He wanted what was best for his people, he wanted what was right for his people. When Bardock had came to the planet. He had high hopes of protecting the civilians and even if he could, the militant army. Although earth had the heart, they lacked the natural ability to fight in the battle. Alien power wasn't exactly there specialty.

When he'd come to Earth, he'd been to late, and his son had devastated most of it's living assets. Although, it wasn't his son's fault…it was his programming. Bardock, unfortunately enough had to send his son back to the empire. He had reconstructed most of the damage within a few years, and the shocking suprize was what he found in the ruble of a compound. A baby bundle---a blue eyes baby girl, rapped in a blue bundle; she was all that was left.

Everything was there, research. Information and everything he could possably have wished for. He'd found out much about the baby, and her father and mother. He told her all he could, but she'd taken to him far to much then when he'd like. She was clingy, and she questioned everything---surprising enough she'd became his best scientific adviser…she was much like him and her biological father. She'd taken both family traits. He'd adored her far to much for his own good.

They had arrived---and she was lost. Ahead lay there ship, the sun was setting. Partly obscured by the hazy fumes the gigantic ship. The ships metallic form looked unreachable---and impenetrable. Never in her life had she'd seen something so intoxicatingly beautiful, and dangerously amazing. Her mind was already spinning with new ideas, and complex formulas on how it came about. Bulma finally felt an acute dismay.

If she failed t escape---and escape was unlikely---and if she was not set free or ransomed, she would have little hope of ever seeing home and her foster family ever again, because no attack could be sustained for long against, such a ship like this not even an attack by Bardock. They didn't have the technology like this, nor the ship this size to try anything as a counter attack. Although, Bulma knew that even though Bardock had a itch of the Prince and his father---he'd never assault his prince. He was loyal enough. He had his honor to defend.

They rode across the large docking bridge and through a raised portcullis into the outer bailey of the ship, saluted by a dozen armed guards. There were a dozen corridors within the main outlet access bay. Lined with a couple dozen stables for the horses, shops for the keep's craftsmen, quarters for excess warriors, and pantries and supply rooms for weapons, amour, and equipment. She was surprised to see Sayain women allied against the side of men, she watched a few of the lower ranking class fighting areas sparring matches were being held, the children were even training, benching---fighting off matches with even some of the elder crew. Everyone was scattered about maintaining there duties.

Her nose lifted, and she took in the sent of something cooking. It smelled surprisingly delicious. But she already knew a lot about saiyan appetite and there appeal for the exotic appeal of different foods. You could hear the grunts of battle, the laughter of a good passing joke running around with some of the men on brakes. Bulma had never been inside such a large fortification before---it was large then any ship she'd even had the honor of working with or seeing. She'd never dream of designing something as big as this---never thought it was physically possible with the short working hands they had now. She was amazed. They reached the main docking doors, and Prince vegeta's gloved digits pressed firmly with irritation to the green access screen to the side. Within seconds the large heavily armed door zipped forward. Bulma stumbled a little, her legs stiff from the day's long ride. Vegeta slid to her side and began to guide her firmly through to doors. Within seconds Bulma jerked her arm free.

"Do not fear. There is obviously nowhere for me to run even if I wished to. "

"I am glad you have the sense to think so."

"You would not be so pleased if you knew what I really think."

"To the contrary, I would be very pleased if I knew your innermost thoughts."

Bulma looked away, goose bumps creeping up her arms. She feared his tenacity would be greater then hers. They entered the second level, into the main feasting room. Two large trestle tables dominated the room, at right angles to each other---one elevated and empty, where the King and or Prince would sit with his family and right hand Elites. A number of the royal house elites and men-at-arms sat at the lower tables, partaking of a supper repast, served by kitchen wenches/and slaves who were quick to evade the more amorous men and overseen by the keep's chamberlain. Others retainers gambled, drank deep within there cups, and diced. Beautiful, vivid tapestries hung from all the walls, and a fire curled in a massive stone fireplace. Fresh rushes, sweetly scented with herbs, littered the floors. Bulma realized with surprise that that there was not a single hound like beast in the place. Two large, carved, cushioned chairs sat in front of the hearth, identical to the two at the head of the elevated table. For a moment Bulma froze, thinking that King of Planet Vegeta was in residence as she spotted the back of spiked aflame hair, much similar to the Princes' in one of those chairs.

But it was a young man only a year or two older the herself who sat there alone. He rose to his feet with unusual grace when they entered and strolled towards them. He golden hair, not raven like she'd suspected before, and had the greenest of eyes, he was very handsome. His far skin tinged faintly golden from an excess of the summer sons of Vegeta' from what she suspected. Or a plant they had purged and plagued war upon.

"Greetings brother."

The handsome man said. But his evergreen gaze was centered wholly on Bulma. The slow mile he finally gave her was devastating.

"Might I assume you presence here is significant?" Vegeta asked dryly. His tone changed. "And Geta, she is mine."

Geta finally looked at his brother. He swept a mock bow. "Of course. I defer to the heir. And yes, I am an envoy from His Highness, as you have undoubtedly guessed."

"Bulma stiffed. Protesting Vegeta's casual statement of possession became irrelevant. It flashed through her mind that she was in a position to learn the enemy's most secret plan, that she could very well be invaluable to her feather during her forced stay here---if she became the spy her captor had already accused her of being.

"All is well, Geta; relax." Vegeta placed his large hand on Bulma's rigid shoulder.

"We will speak later. When must you return?"

"Immediately." Geta eyed Bulma, again smiling, the curl of his lips almost mocking, with little or no trace of humor in his eyes. "What's this? No introduction? Are you afraid she will prefer me? And do we not have enough maids here to please you, or have you already sampled them all?"

Vegeta ignored the obvious teasing. "Bra, this is my bigmouthed little brother, Geta, a captain of the guard of the empire. You may disregard his attempts of humor as they are quite dismal. Besides, he is the lover, not I."

Bulma sincerely doubted Vegeta's last words. Both brothers were undoubtedly unrepentant predators when it came to the fair sex. Their looks were quite different. One so golden, the other so dark, but they were both striking, and no female would be immune to either one of them. Bulma did not return Geta's smile as she regarded him warily.

Geta's bold gaze turned questioning, moving from Bulma to Vegeta.

"She is my guest." Vegeta said shortly, clearly dismissing any further inquiries.

"How fortunate you are," Geta murmured. Giving them both another last look, he walked a short distance away, in order to contemplate the fire.

"I am not your guest," Bulma said angrily, unable to restrain herself and shaking off his hand. "Guest are not mistreated. Guest are free to come and go. Do you not speak the truth even with your brother?"

The gaze Vegeta leveled upon her was cold. "You accuse me of misspeaking the truth?"

Bulma flushed hotly, but recklessly refused to back down.

"Yes, I do."

He raised his hand. Bulma did not think he intended to strike her, but never the less she flinched. His forefinger slid over the curve of one cheek and lingered by the corner of her mouth. "Come now, women, it's you who plays a masquerade, am I right?"

"No," Bulma croaked, pulling away, "I have explained my manner of dress. I have explained all. You must release me, at once."

"You are appearing desperate, women. State your true identity now, and then we shall discuss your freedom."

"After you have rapped me!"

Vegeta glowered at her. "As I have previously stated, there will be no rape."

Her gaze locked with his. Why was it that she was within a hairsbreadth of believing him? Why was it that she was almost disappointed? Surely her dismay was in response to the sum of her predicament and not his avowal. The Prince revealed his teeth in a slow, appealing attempt at a smile.

"When I take you to bed, women, you will enjoy it."

Bulma could not move, could not respond.

"Yesterday you were fortunate. Today…today I grow tired of this game."

She found her voice, which was far to husky to please her. "It's no game."

His smile was colder then before, but his eyes were far brighter. "If you wish to spar your maidenhead you alien species are so intent on protecting and defending, you will reveal yourself immediately."

She grasped.

"I have never been able to resist wielding the final blow, women. You best remember that." He added very softly, "When engaged in battle. The time for surrender has come."

"No," Bulma whispered. Heat unfurled like a stream of spoke in her frozen body.

"Yes," he murmured seductively.

"But…" Her mind was dazed, making coherent thought difficult. "I thought you were going to send spies to Capsule Corporation to learn whether I am telling you the truth or not! Surely that takes time!"

"Obviously if you are of any import, you will tell me before I ruin your worth to another man."

Her heart was pounding. Their gazes remained interlocked, the one upon the other. Bulma was finding it difficult to breathe, to think. She only knew that she could not, must not, tell him who she was.

"My Patience is at an end. If you are who you say you are, after this night you will be my mistress or if you will my concubine," Vegeta said flatly.

Silence fell like the blow of a sward between them. Bulma was white. She gripped her hands together tightly, desperately trying to sort out the dilemma he had put her in. If she continued to insist that she was Bra Briefs, he would take her to his bed---very shortly. Images of him naked and aroused filled her, and she wasn't sure if she felt anticipation or dismay. But she could not reveal her true identity to him, she could not. She spoke through dry stiff lips.

"I am Bra Briefs."

His response was immediate. "My chamber is on the top level, I dominate the entire section. Go and await my pleasure there."

Her jaw clenched. Her breasts heaved. She did not move, nor did she remove her gaze from his.

"Go await my pleasure there," he commanded again, low.

Their gazes clashed, held, locked. It occurred to Bulma that, faced with her doom, she was crazy to war with this man. She could not win. She should give in, surrender as he had insisted she do, reveal herself to him. Hazy, passionate images flooded her mind, of an amorous couple, twisting and entwined. Of her and Prince Vegeta…she could not betray and beggar her father. Son Bardock, whom she loved and worshipped more than anyone.

Bulma squared her shoulders, raised her chin, and slowly she turned her back on him. For an instant Vegeta did not move, watching her as she walked to elevator. Then he snapped his fingers and pointed. One of his men-at-arms materialized from across the hall, to escort Bulma to his chamber. Both brothers watched her go, the hall eerily silent.

Then someone guffawed. Laughter followed and conversation resumed. One of the warriors slapped a slave sharply on her rump as she refilled his wine, causing her to squeal and jump and spill some of the flagon. Dice rolled, bets were wagered.

Geta turned to Vegeta with a raised brow. "What is this? An unwilling slave?" He was quaint. "Is that why she fascinates you so? My oldest brother does not lust, he merely takes when moved to do so."

Vegeta walked to the dais, climbing it, and sat down at the table. The chamberlain materialized at his elbow with a vessel of dragons blood. Vegeta nodded to him, as he poured his lord a drink. "She is an uncanny women, Geta, and it's her deception which intrigues me."

Geta slid into the chair beside him. "Indeed?" He was skeptical. "So your telling me it's not her exquisite face?"

Vegeta was exasperated. "So I am human after all. What difference does it make? She will reveal herself this very night, and I will not have to make good my threat."

"If she is as you suspect, a lady of some worth," Geta said, "She will bend before the deed is done. No lady will give her virginity for nothing."

"Yes," Vegeta said as a slave came and laid trenchers of meats, pastries, and cheeses on the table. "Bring food and some passion fruits to the guest who waits in my chamber," He said to a blushing slave girl.

"And will you spare her your attentions even then?" Geta asked with cool doubt.

* * *

Read Review, tell me what you think. Sorry for the slow update, but I ran into some missions and I haven't had time to update.


	6. Alternative Means

Get this: Don't own!

Note: I am so sorry this is late comming up; so I was nice to make it a little longer then the rest. I hope you enjoy---if you guys like it enough I might add a little 'lemon' to the next chapter...you guys have been so good with me. Well I hope this clears up a few more things okay? Goku is OC only because he's been raised diffrently in this timeline I have set up, but I keep up the good hearted 'man' we all love.

* * *

The Untamed Soldier

By: Envy My Pain

Chapter Five: Alternative Means

* * *

"I will have to, will I not?"

His expression was hard his gaze unfathomable. She would bend, revealing herself to him as some lady of importance---and he would send her on her merry way, although perhaps he would be a bit richer afterwards from the ransom.

"Do not do anything foolish," Geta warned, no mockery in his tone now. "remember what you have just said."

"Thank you, little brother, for your confidence."

Geta shrugged. "Father is anxious to know what you have learned."

Vegeta lowered his voice. "Earth can be easily persuaded. If not taken. But we end the peace."

"He is not interested in peace, Vegeta, he is interested in securing the northern galaxy so he may tuner his attentions elsewhere."

Vegeta grunted, already knowing this.

"You shall give me a full report?"

"Tomorrow," Vegeta said with a sigh.

Geta nodded, picked up his cup of dragons blood, and leaned back into his chair. His mouth curled. "I bring you tidings." Vegeta helped himself to a large slice of meat, "from father?"

"No, from Adele Beau."

Vegeta said nothing. Geta fingered his eating knife, "She sends you her warmest regards."

Vegeta replied, "And you may send her mine."

Geta shifted to face him directly, all blandness gone. "But not in the manner that you shall send your regards to little Bra this night, if you find that she is telling the truth."

"Enough!"

"You don't know anything about Lady Beau, you have barely spoken to her. I, however, have had much opportunity to observe her since she has come to the Saiyan Court. She is no ordinary women, Vegeta. The lady your going to wed in three months time will be most unhappy if she hears you have enslaved a beautiful concubine in your chambers."

"Do fret over something so trivial," Vegeta replied harshly. "I have no intentions of jeopardizing my relations with Adele Beau, only a fool would provoke the eviler half of father."

Vegeta stepped out onto the outer halls, lined by a fleet of large windows, pushing past a docking door, that lead to a small overlook. It over saw the dazzling stars of night, and the ship was in it's last preparations of launching---it would leave tonight unless they ran into any unsuspected complications. His gaze was upon his domain of earth, even though Bardock was so determined to call it his' it was in fact the Empire of Vegeta that owned it's soil, and people.

As far as the eye could see, the land belonged to him and his father, King Vegeta. Vegeta felt a fierce rush of pride and possessiveness over earth and it's inhabitances. His father had gone to the Kold empire, to be with his overlord Frieza, the suppose galactic ruler. His father fought by that lizards fathers side for twenty-seven years now. King Vegeta had been landless, and he had been seeking the spoils of invasion to new land, and new worlds. That could fall under the grip of the Oozaru. Now, the first born son of the greatest king in the western galaxy King Vegeta's son, Vegeta II was the conqueror slave of the Kold empires and the most trusted military commander, a right hand man to one of the evilest villains in the known universe. Not one careless soul not no the name of Frieza. Prince Vegeta had already persuaded many wealthy and prosperous campaigns in both the southern and of course eastern galaxies for the benefit for his people, and natural resources expanding across each dominated planet after the other.

Vegeta was very aware that one day all the power of the Saiyan Empire would be his. He had been born a bastard---his parents had not been able to marry unit his father's first wife had died--but none the less he had been made his father's soul heir of the throne. It was a vast responsibility, a heavy burden, one he had assumed the very day he had been sent to foster at the Kold Empires court at the tender age of six. But he had never questioned his duty to his father and his kingdom, not then, not now, and not in the years to come and in-between. A man did what he must, always. He had learned that lesson the same day he had been taken upon a ship enslaved into an enlisted force of men. Where he'd been taken from his home world to serve another. He had not been able to return until a decade later. Marring the Emeritus heirs, Adele Beau, who was another duty he would bear.

They had been betrothed for two and a half years, and they were finally to be wed this upcoming ceremonial feast held every decade in collaboration of the domination and celebration of the Planet Vegeta. On the faithful night the moon arose; and with it rose the hidden power of the tailed beast of the Saiyan people. A feast---for the night, that ended tell the braking of dawn. Now that the young women has finally turned of age, sixteen. She was now at the age of proper marriage status.

Freiza had wanted the union to take place two years ago, but Adele's guardian would not hear of it. She would bring Vegeta a large estate in the Kold Empire, and also from her home world Emeritus of Endor. A very wealthy prosperous planet and, more importantly, much technology. Technology is something his family always needed. Unlike most of the king's other great magnates, Planet Vegeta carried the huge military burden, of maintaining not only it's own Empire but the Kolds Empire as well, and that was strenuously costly in the extreme. Not just in coin---but in the cost of blood.

On the other hand, Vegeta's marriage to Adele Beau would make Planet Vegeta dangerously independent, something the Kold Empire's royalty could not be pleased about. But, Frieza was desperate for revenue himself, determined as he was to wage his own wars against his older brother Cooler in order to reunite the Saiyan Empire and the Kold Empire. Frieza was a cold and sadistic heartless bastard---but he was a smart man when it came to value. He knew something good when he saw it, and he knew that without the Saiyan Empire not only was he open to competition---but there was a fear that ran deep in his own cold and desolate bloodstream. His body, and his soul would be judged by the hands of one of them.

Vegeta realized that his thoughts had generated a pulsating tension within him. It was his duty to keep the Northern squadron secure, and for two long years he had walked a tightrope to maintain a fragile peace, responding to every incitement by the breach in the Kold empires domain as well as his own. Blow for blow, yet knowing he must not strike back so fully that he would shatter the reigning truce. It had been no easy task. He was tired. He looked forward to his marriage, for Adele's dowry and technology would ease the burden generated by constant warfare that was forever upon his back.

Geta's warning words mocked him. Goddamn it, he was deliberating man, neither impulsive or rash, but there had been nothing deliberate or careful about his decision to take the women calling her self Bra his prisoner. She had intrigued him with her beauty and her deceit, and he had abducted her. He had hoped to discover her to be of little value, so that he could take her to his bed. He still hoped, even while he doubted it.

No man in his position would jeopardize marriage to an heiress for another women, no matter how desirable she might be. And he had no intention of doing so. A brief liaison, if he was fortunate enough to have it come to that, did not jeopardize his alliance with the Beau's. But, she could not remain in his chamber. In sending her there, he had again acted rashly, for it was a dangerous breach of etiquette. Adele Beau would be justifiable furious should she learn he kept a women in his room. As soon as their next confrontation was waged, he would remove her from his bedchamber.

His jaw clenched. And he would solve the mystery she presented. When faced with imminent ruin, he had not a doubt that she would confess her deception. She would confess her deception, revealing herself to be a highborn lady, and he would send her upon her way, no worse for wear, as he had sworn to do. Vegeta could not imagine letting her go without a taste of her, but if she does in fact reveal herself to be highborn, he would. And in three months, he would wed the Endor Princess. There was no pleasure in the thought. Not anymore.

Vegeta was irritated to find that once again Bra had disobeyed him; she was not awaiting him in his chambers as he and instructed her to do. He stripped down his underclothing which consisted of spandex shorts, the heavy muscles in his back rippling, his arms thick with sinew, every tendon defined, his biceps bulging with each slight movement, his stomach flat and rock-hard. He was a warrior's well-used body, one honed by years of practice and vigorous training, with years of combat.

Vegeta was more then annoyed. He was disturbed by his moment of self-doubt, and perplexed by the confusion he had suddenly felt in regard to his marriage to Adele. How could his prisoner, exotic beauty or not, raise such alien emotions in him?

He was angry. It was safer to be angry with her. Already his blood boiled, and she had yet to enter the chamber. For the first time, Vegeta wondered if he could exert the self-control necessary to deny himself her body, which he must do once she unmasked herself. He reminded himself that he had no choice.

His sister entered without knocking. Her rude interruption into such disturbing thoughts was welcome, although he was not pleased that she should glimpse him in his state of undress.

"Knock, Chi-Chi," He warned, turning away from her and shrugging on his royal robe. A dark rich red silk-like robe with black outer trim. A dark color, for a dark man. She was very precocious ten, and even more astute. Much like his mother. Who was willing to bark out demands---even to the king himself. He was afraid that one day she would discover him in some pursuit not fit for a sister's eyes upon her brother, much less a young girl.

She stuck her tongue out at him. "Why?"

Vegeta bit back a growl. He had yet to see Chi-Chi since his return to the ship. She had been up to some mischief with the soldiers again, no doubt, for she was inclined towards perpetual trouble making. "Because I said so, royalty is deemed to uphold proper mannerism." He tried to scowl. "What greeting is this?"

She beamed and ran into his arms. He held her briefly and set her down, unable to restrain a rush of pride. She was everyone's darling, certainly his. His little sister was a clever thing, already too gorgeous and not yet betrothed. Vegeta knew that Freiza was bidding his time, but soon he would find her a husband and make another powerful alliance, for the Saiyan Empire. Vegeta thought, but was not sure, that their father intended to wed her to the an alien race outside there own people. Although roomer had it, that the king had intended to fix the squabble between the clans---especially Bardocks small rebellion. Although, Bardock was firm on his beliefs he was still their in time to aid his people when needed. He was honorable enough, to the prince, but a nescience none the less.

Bardock's son had little land---but much silver, and technological advancements; and plentiful resources. Although Kakarott was a friend, he wasn't so sure he'd approve of the match of the faithful son of Bardock, an ally that Vegeta trusted with life or death.

He gazed at her with the best form of affection a man of his stature could show. "Where have you been this evening?"

"Oh, around." She said mysteriously, but her smile was quick and angelic. "Why should I knock? You're alone. I listened at the door to make certain."

His eyes went wide. She stepped back, giggling. "I'm not a baby anymore, Vegeta," She said haughtily. She was the only one who dared bastardize his name without it's proper title. "I know what you do at night with the servants and slaves."

He could not believe it. He didn't know whether to chuckle at her or scold her. "Just what is it you think I do with the slaves and servants, wench?"

She gave him a knowing look. "Father says if there is one more bastard born in the Royal Harem, he's taking a whip to you as if you were a boy of twelve!" She was gleeful.

"Oh, he does," He managed, chocking on laughter and despair. "You still haven't answered my question Chi-Chi."

"Do I seem stupid?" You make babies, Vegeta, and the servant wenches, and slaves like it, I know, for I've heard them talking about you."

This time he went still. "You've heard them talking…" He sputtered. "And what, pray tell, big ears, do they say?"

"Well---" She rolled her dark hazel hues "---they say it's big and strong and very randy…but sometimes quick, too quick…and sometimes---"

Vegeta was scandalized. "Enough!" He pounced on her. But she dodged him with a laugh. "I hope you have no idea what you're talking about," He growled. "And I intend to tell mother that you are eavesdropping---on the servants, no less!"

Chi-Chi looked hurt, well and truly hurt. "Mother will send me to the diplomacy detention!" She quavered. Her large, luminous eyes held his; as soft and innocent as a fawn's. "I promise not to listen anymore, really I do. Don't tell Mother!"

He sighed, exasperated. She was a handful, had always been a handful, and one day would undoubtedly rule her husband with no contest. "I won't tell this time," he said. "But Chi-Chi, don't test me!"

She bit her lip, serious now. They both knew she could only manipulate him so far. "Why is Bra a prisoner."

"Ah. So you've met the mysterious, Bra. I prefer to think her as my guest."

"She says she is your prisoner---and that you must release her at once."

"Did she send you to me with such a message, Chi-Chi?"

"I only know what she told me." Chi-Chi was wide-eyed and expectant.

Vegeta was very exasperated with his guest again. Did she think to maneuver him through his baby sister? Could she be so shrewd? "Where is she?"

"In the women's lunar Why have you frightened her big brother?"

"Your curiosity into the affairs of others will one day be your downfall, Chi-Chi. If you are wise, you will mark my words and fight your inclination."

"Chi-Chi was disappointed but undaunted. "Does that mean you aren't going to tell me what you've done to her?"

"I have done nothing to her," he said, then added. "Yet." Chi-chi blinked, fascinated.

"Go and send Bra to me." He leveled a hard gaze on his sister. "And then you may join Geta downstairs." He did not want her snooping outside his chamber door. Chi-Chi nodded, still wide-eyed and ran off. Unsmiling to do his intentions---it was time to make Bra Briefs' reveal the truth.

* * *

The heavy electronic doors of the ship slid open at the docking bay, to admit a group of saiyan warriors. They were soaked with rain and covered with mud . For Earth's weather had been storming fiercely, the sky black, the wind howling. Thunder boomed lightening lit ups the skies. Bardock's wife, leader of the Empire of Earth Amayako sat by the fire in the main feasting hall, motionless and despairing, unfinished embroidery at her feet. At the first sound of their entrance, she leapt up. "What news?" 

Bardock entered ahead of the other men, flinging off his upper body armor, a servant unable to catch it before it feel clinging with a loud ring, and into the muddy rushes on the floor. Immediately he strode to his wife. "We have not found her, Amayako."

Amayko made a sound of fear, clutching for his hands. three men, all wet and weary, trekked into the hall behind him. Bardock's three eldest sons, excluding his missing son Turlus. They were all removing there upper-body armor. There flexible material under it, drenched and purged in mud. The stripped the tops, and all reached for cups of warm wine which the servants hastily brought forth. Kakarott paused to stand and stare blindly into the hearth's roaring flames, a puddle forming at his feet. He made no move to shed his soaking cloak. "You have found something." Amayko cried, clutching Bardocks hands. "You are hiding something from me!"

"We have only speculation, nothing more," Bardock said grimly. But his face was flushed darkly, telling Amayko that he was furious and barely able to contain his anger.

"What is it? What have you found? Bulma cannot just have disappeared!"

Raditz whirled. Tall and lean a few feet shorter then his younger brother Kakarott, he had exotically long spiked jagged hair---much similar in comparison with his mother then his father. "Show her," he demanded. "So we may know for sure."

Kakarott the youngest brother, grabbed his arm and jerked him back. "Leave her alone," he warned. "There is no sense alarming her further."

"Your defending that bastard again, aren't you! That coward of a Prince." Raditz shooved him; and he scowled deeply. Raditz was a few years Kakarott's senior, and then Turlus a bastard disowned son of Bardock's forgotten companion mistakenly misplaced in a purge. Although, many who knew Bardock knew that he wasn't very companionate for his first wife. A shrew who's betrayal ran deep---he'd killed her with his own hands. He held to in the grasp of his vise-like-grip choking the life from her weak body. She'd betrayed him---and his first born son. Her death, was his punishment to her. She'd no lingered deemed worthy enough to live. Not in his mind set. His youngest son, Kakarott looked liked a mirrored copy of his own father---match for match; save for the scar lashed upon his face; a scar he'd never forget for the memories of his physic powers. Powers he'd lay dormant with the will power to forge the voices of all those he'd killed.

Innocent lives, all in the name of one cold hearted monster. His teeth clenched at the memory of his own face off with that lizard lord. Ah yes, Bardock was known throughout the galaxy as the only brave soul to stand up on the face of true evil. The only one---and the only thing that protected this world was the treaty that the Saiyan Empire had with the Kold Empire. If one inch of earth---or Saiyan blood was spilled. A Galactic War would spill out throughout the galaxies.

"Do you want to find Bulma or not, Kakarott?"

"Of course I do! I just think your jumping to conclusions is all. I haven't seen or heard from the Prince---he would have notified me if he planned a stayed visit. I served along the side of wars with that man! Of course I'm going to defend him. You don't bear the marks of battles, blood shed, and hardships alone. No matter how strong you say you are. He's got his pride, but Prince Vegeta isn't a bad guy. Freiza is---you best remember who our real enemy is."

"Stop it!" Amayko cried, her usual calm completely shattered. "How dare you fight now! Raditz! Tell me!"

Bardock gripped her hands. "There were Elite Saiyan Soldiers here yesterday, Amayko, not a mile from Earths established headquarters."

"You don't think…?"

"Show her father," Radtiz demanded. "Ask her if it belongs to Bulma."

Kakarott shoved past Raditz, and hit Raditz with his fist in the shoulder, Kakarott might have had the upper hand in size and strength---but Raditz was no unskilled fighter. So the hit only unbalanced him slightly. Immediately Raditz came to the defense his body automatically hitting into a striking offensive stance. A sibling spar of rivalry ready to lash out between to great warriors. Not to forget that they were two of the strongest warriors in the western galaxy. It was when a roar from Bardock ceased the fisticuffs.

Bardock withdrew a piece of wet, white cloth from his belt. Kakarott made a sound of protest. Raditz ashen. Bardock only ignored the immaturity of his sons, as he carefully unfolded the scrap, watching his mate.

"Could this be a piece of Bulma's underclothing?"

Amayko's eyes widened and she grasp. "Where did you find that?"

"It was where the Saiyan docking post had there camp," Bardock said grimily.

Amayko swayed.

Kakarott and Bardock caught her at the same time, steadying her. "Don't fear, mother." Kakarott said soothingly, but his jaw was tight. "We shall find her and return her home in no time at all." His mind was blaring through a million thoughts---had Vegeta betrayed him? Was his Prince so low as to steal his fathers adopted daughter…his own adopted sister he'd known all his life! A women who took baths with him---who taught him the kindness and the sweet things of earth. She'd called him Goku' a pet name she'd called him so soothingly when he'd need comfort. It was a name most of earth adopted him as. Son Goku.

"Just the time it takes to find that whoreson bastard," Raditz said darkly, glancing quickly at the silent brother Kakarott who still stood staring into the flames. Because of the proximity of Kakarott and Bulam's ages, he knew that the two were closest to her of all the siblings. As children, he and Bulma had been as inseparable as possible for a bother and sister. Even now, when Kakarott wasn't fighting or sparing, he could usually be found with Bulma.

"If they have hurt her…"

"I will kill them all, every last treacherous Elite pig." Bardock roared. "Every last one. Including there O'fearless leader."

"Lets go now, father," Raditz urged. His dark onyx hues blazed. "If we set coordinates now, we can be at Planet Vegeta or close to there ship within a few days."

"Idiot son, it takes months to reach the depths of space where that Blood Red Ruby planet lays. With the ships we carry. There ship is probably half way through the mapping system of the first three days we'd need to catch up with them. There far to technologically advanced for us Son."

"Planet Vegeta?" Amayko asked. "It was Saiyans?"

"His troops were seen in the area this morning," Bardock replied harshly. "It was that bastard whelp, not the damned father, who is still at his wretched Kold Empires court. And who else would dare to abduct our daughter---who else?" Recently, with the king away so often, Prince Vegeta had become the thorn to Bardock's side.

Amayko was as white as death. "That poor girl, dear lord, protect her. She's only human…she can't withstand the brutality of our people." She moaned, praying not for the first time, and not for the last. "please see her returned to us unharmed!"

"It's my fault," kakarott said standing in front of the hearth, his raven locks flamed in the firelight. "Had I not been detained at court with responsibility to the royal crown, I would have been with her, and never would I have let her fall into the Princes clutches had I known his true intentions of kidnapping my sister."

The agony of the young man felt was etched in the lines of fatigue on his face. Amayko moved to him, intent on comforting despite her own pain. "It's not your fault, Kakarott. Bulma knows better then to wonder outside these walls, or any walls, alone." Tears filled her eyes. "How we have warned her time and again to behave as befit's a princess, not an orphan slave. If it is anyone's fault it is mine. For failing to rein in her spirit.

"It is not your fault, Amayko," Bardock said, his tone softening. "Bulma is to blame, and when I get my hands on her. She will not sit down for a week." He was angry again. "How could she be such a fool, for someone of her intelligence." He turned to face Kakarott. " And you are equally to blame, for enticing her to a rendezvous as you did. I will deal with you after I have dealt with her."

Kakarott said nothing, but his mouth was tensely drawn.

"Bardock we must know for sure where she is," Amayko stated.

"Do not fear, Mother." Kakarott consoled, taking her hand. "We are certain it was the Elite guard and the Prince that took her. We found two more pieces of linen before it became too dark to continue to follow the trail, and obviously they were heading northeast to where the earths docking station is. Who else but our Bulma would be so bold as to leave these little flags for us? At the very least, her spirit remains unbroken."

Bardock took her hand. "I will send a few scouts on a ship tonight to spread word and try to find her, Kami as my witness I'd have her hear waiting for you by dawn---no promises. I'll try my best for now."

Amayko gazed at him gratefully. He was a hard man, even a difficult man, but she knew it was no easy thing to be in charge of an empire that was forsaken---and left abandoned. Stripped yearly of it's resources and minerals. When you wanted peace with your own people---but war against a villain that almost took the life of himself and his people. Had Bardock not used his voice of persuasion---his home world and this world would be laying in another dimension. That cold desolate day---he'd never forget. Fasha, Shugesh, Totepo, and his best friend…Toma. All dead at the hands of that murdering monster…they were doing 'his' will, 'his' purge and it had all been some wickedly evil plot to kill them. The strongest Elite team---known and feared by millions.

Bardock wasn't completely all innocent and fun loving as one might wish him to be. Know his son Kakarott was the other half of him he could never be. A son so identical in shape, and form but a complete opposite of personality. His son had this great deal of hope, and pride. He always wanted to see the good in everything---it was impossible to beat the kindness out of him; his so was who he was. Innocent. Unlike his two older brothers.

"We are wasting time," Raditz cried. "We know where it was so let us besiege him immediately!"

"Do not be such a fool," Kakarott said. "we cannot wage a civil war upon our own people. It will be a blood massacre, there are other ways to take about this."

"You would leave your little sister there to rot, wouldn't you?" Raditz cried.

"I did not say that." Kakarott said coldly. "All I'm saying is that I know Prince Vegeta. This is a big mistake, nothing more. You forget brother dearest I served as Frieza's pet! I served him for a decade along that mans side and I know him! Understand me, no one is leaving Bulma to rot," Kakarott stated, directing an ice cold glance at Raditz.

"Stop it, I cannot stand this bickering, not now!" Everyone turned to Amayko .

"There will be no war!" She cried, standing. Rarely did she give commands, and never did she interfere in matters politic, but now she shook with the force of her determination. "Bardock---you will pay whatever ransom it is that King Vegeta wants and whatever treaty he blackmails you will to sign. You must!"

"Don't mettle in affairs women have no place to speak. Go upstairs and rest!" Her growled his first warning of promise not only to his mate but to his sons. It was the end of debate. Any more words spoken would mean a death defying beating of there lives.

* * *

Bulma could hear the metallic hum of the ship. It was coxing in it's own haunting tune as she paused in the open doorway of the Prince's chamber. She had not considered refusing his summons, even though she was nearly paralyzed with fright at the thought of what might happen. He was wearing spandex shorts again---the rob tossed aside. His lack of dress was all the confirmation she needed. Her face, paler then the costliest ivory, stung with sudden heat. Mary turned her gaze away from the site of his hardened lions thrusting against the fabric of his stretchable spandex shorts. 

He regarded her without expression. The sound of the ship, now beating determinedly down upon the ships mainframe, filled the silence of the room.

Bulma's back was to the open doorway. She cast her gaze around wildly, her heart tripping. She had considered revealing herself to him. Though she had not had much time, less then an hour, to contemplate her dilemma, she had brooded over her alternatives as carefully as possible in the face of her growing panic.


End file.
